


Peter Phan

by knlalla



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Getting Together, I promise, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multiple Personalities, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Science Experiments, Strangers to Lovers, Suicide Attempt, before I say anything else, but not the actual mental illness i don't want to claim to represent that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-06 05:12:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 36,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14634807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knlalla/pseuds/knlalla
Summary: Phil's woken in the middle of the night by a mysterious guy at his window who's intent on dragging him off on an adventure, and for some inexplicable reason, he agrees.Dan's stuck - quite literally - in his own head, and he's desperate for anyone to help him escape. Maybe, if he's lucky, that person could be Phil. He hopes it is.





	1. "Take care, lest an adventure is now offered you, which, if accepted, will plunge you in deepest woe.”

**Phil POV**

I wake to a soft light shining through my window - it’s not super bright, but it kind of looks like the moon is too close or something; I’m turned away, but I can see silvery shadows cast against the far wall. They’re fuzzy, so I reach across to my bedside table for my glasses.

Once the world’s come into focus, I push aside my duvet and stand; because it’s October, the wood floor chills my bare feet. I fully intend to just close the curtains, but I end up stood at the window for a moment, trying to figure out why it feels brighter than usual.

The moon is clear and full, but it doesn’t _look_ any larger. The stars are sparkling, though only the most ambitious ones manage to appear in the sky with all of London’s light pollution. I only stare for another moment, then slide the curtains across the window, sending the room into darkness.

In moments, I’m settled back in my bed, glasses returned to the table and knees curled into my chest to fight the cold that’s seeped in through my feet. I can feel myself drifting back off, into some dream, when a sharp crack sounds at the window. My eyes fly open, heart rate skyrocketing, and I reach for my glasses instinctively. 

But I pause - the sound only happened once; it was probably _not_ a burglar trying to break in, and probably _not_ an alien trying to abduct me, and it’s far too early for Santa, so I let my hand hover in the cool air for only a moment longer before pulling it back under the covers and snuggling in. _I’m sure it’s nothing_.

I’m drifting off when it happens again, twice this time. _Is someone…knocking?_ Armed with the knowledge that _probably_ a burglar wouldn’t knock, I stand again and creep my way to the window. I’m suddenly wishing I hadn’t closed the curtains, then I’d be able to see whatever’s outside. Or _whoever_.

The window’s latched shut, so I have to hope that if the thing outside wants to hurt me, it can’t get in. I reach out, pulling the curtain aside slowly. 

_How…_ there’s _nothing_. Not even a pigeon. I’m tempted to leave the curtain open, just in case the...entity? In case _whatever_ it was knocks again, but the light pooling in the room is annoying, and I’m sure I won’t be able to get back to sleep unless it’s fully dark.

I sigh, then drag the curtain back. Just as I’m blocking out the last of the glow, a _face_ appears. I squeak, then clamp a hand over my mouth, jumping back from the curtain altogether.

The face belongs to a guy who looks about my age, and he’s stuck his head out from the side, like he’s hiding in the space just past my window. Which would be...kind of impossible, since that’s a brick wall, there’s nowhere for him to be standing. _Maybe he has some epic rock-climbing skills?_

I realize I’m staring, still dumbstruck, when a hand joins the face and taps on the glass again. My curiosity gets the better of me - _seriously, how can he be outside my window, four floors up?_ \- and I pull the curtain back and unlatch the window for him.

Before I have the chance to peek out and see how exactly he’s managed to suspend himself mid-air - which has to be the only explanation, unless he really _is_ an alien - he’s climbing inside and perching on my window sill. A cool breeze follows him, ruffling my shirt and sending a shiver up my spine.

“Uh...what are you doing…?” I’m not even sure what to ask the strange person, who’s grinning and leaning toward me, acting more like an old pal than a random guy who just climbed through my window. I settle on the question that made me let him inside: “How were you out there? How did you manage not to fall?” I take another step back as he hops to his feet, still beaming.

“Nice to meet you, too!” He chuckles, “but if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” I scrunch my eyebrows. _I believe_ lots _of things, thanks very much._ I don’t say it, though, because now he’s exploring my room, drifting a hand over my plants and picking up random objects I’ve got scattered around. 

“Okay, well, why are you here then?” I feel like I _should_ be annoyed, that he’s just invaded my privacy and barged into my room, but I’m really more intrigued. _Who is this mysterious guy?_ I decide to sit cross-legged on the bed and watch him. He ignores my question entirely, lifting a tiny cactus and spinning to face me.

“Do you like adventures?” He’s _still_ smiling, and I notice - now that the light’s shining _on_ him and not coming from _behind_ him - that his eyes are a deep, warm brown, matching his hair. For some reason, I get the feeling that _he’s_ warm, and sweet, like hot chocolate. I’m not sure where it comes from.

“I, uh...yeah, I like to try new things,” I nod, which is true, but I have no clue what he means by ‘adventures’. His grin widens, and he returns the cactus to my desk, though it’s not in the right spot. I’m a little surprised when he takes my hand from my lap, pulling me up from the bed and leading me toward the window. In fact, I’m so surprised that I don’t protest, not until he’s balanced with his toes on the edge of the sill, tugging me along with him.

“Wait, no, what are you-” I drag him back, not letting go of his hand, so he stumbles back and onto the floor. Somehow, he lands on his feet - if it were me, I’d have fallen flat on my ass.

“I thought you said you like adventures?” He’s pouting at me, like I should’ve been game for just leaping out a window in the middle of the night and probably _dying_. 

“When they don’t involve plummeting to my death, yeah!” I retort, though I’m more just concerned than mad. _Whoever this guy is, I’m not about to let him just..._ I cut the thought off. He’s still pouting, but then he glances up, lips curling almost into a smile. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks, and it’s quiet, and I don’t really know what to say because he just tried to lead me out a fourth-story window, but something in my gut makes me want to say _yes, yes I do absolutely trust you_. I look down to our hands - neither of us has let go, and I really don’t want to.

“Yes?” I have no clue what it means or what he’s about to try to do, but I say it anyway.

“Can _I_ trust _you_?” For some reason, this question is much more serious; I tilt my head, suddenly wondering if I’ve woken up in some strange sci-fi universe and the alien is about to _tell_ me he’s an alien and take me to his mothership. _The jumping out a window thing might make more sense, I guess?_

“Yeah, of course,” I say more confidently - above all else, I’m definitely trustworthy. His eyes sparkle, barely visible with the light behind him casting his features into shadow, and his grip on my hand tightens just a little. Then he’s pulling me beside him, and we’re both stood on the window sill, and I’m pretty sure something unreal is about to happen.

“Okay, when I say so, _jump_.”


	2. "The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it."

**Dan POV**

He’s beautiful. Even when he’s terrified, eyes blinking and watering against the brisk air that’s whipping against us both. I’m not cold, but I can see the goosebumps rise on his skin. 

“Okay, when I say so, _jump_.” I hope he does trust me, I think he does, he _said_ he does. He said I can trust him. I want that to be true. His hand hasn’t left mine, and I squeeze it a little tighter. It’s warm. “Jump!” 

And we do. He does, _he trusts me_. I can feel the elation running through me as we rise up, higher in the air than that jump should’ve warranted. _He does trust me._ I can’t keep the smile off my face; I know it’s too bright, _I’m_ too bright, and people below might see us, but I don’t care. _He trusts me._

I peek over at him as we float higher - he was pale to begin with, but it’s possible he’s paled even more in the last few seconds. His eyes are shut, which is a shame, since they’re gorgeous: the exact blue of the ocean under the sun, and twice as bright. Twice as pretty. His hand is crushing mine, which I didn’t notice until just now - now, as it loosens. 

His eyes open again, taking in the sight below us. London disappears below our feet instead of rushing closer - I imagine that’s what he expected when we jumped; wonder is clear on his face, or what little of it I can see. He’s still staring down below us, distracted, and his shoulder bumps mine unintentionally.

“Are we…” he trails off, then turns his gaze toward me. _God, I could get lost in those eyes, jesus christ._ I tame both my smile and my thoughts, then nod. He inhales sharply, eyes back on the ground, and he’s suddenly wobbling in the air. _No, no no no, focus._

“Hey, hey, look at me,” I say quietly - he’s still close, I don’t have to speak loud. He looks, steadies. We continue floating through the air, leaving the city behind, and I tug at his hand gently to speed us along. I have to turn away from him first - he hasn’t blinked, and I can’t focus with him staring at me like that. _Like I’ve done something amazing, something worth looking at me for._ His attention is as intoxicating as it is unnerving.

“Where are we going?” He asks quietly, but it’s not confusion or fear that colors his voice, it’s _excitement_ ; I can’t contain my own.

“You’ll see,” I smile over, allowing myself just a glimpse of him, then return to watching the scene below us: rolling hills have given way to rocky cliffsides, and I can see our destination in the distance. “I think you’ll like it,” I try not to let too much hope seep into my voice, but there’s a _lot_ of it bubbling up in my stomach. I want to _promise_ that he’ll _love_ it, but I can’t bring myself to set him up for disappointment if he doesn’t. _I hope he does, though._

\----------------------------

We touch down lightly on the beach, though he stumbles when we land - I reach out on instinct, wrapping arms around his chest to steady him. _Oh_. He’s warm, still, despite the cold, and I step back. I’m sure my cheeks have turned red, but if he notices, he doesn’t say. Once we’re both standing, toes buried in the cool sand, he glances over at me.

“And where is here?” His eyes are wide, like he’s trying to absorb the entire scene in one look. To be fair, there’s a lot to take in - the pristine beach is bordered by dark water, and it disappears into a cloudy fog. In the other direction, things get more interesting: a sweeping jungle backs up to the edge of the sand, then climbs its way up a very tall mountain. Volcano, if we’re being technical, but it’s mostly dormant. The top is obscured by a warm mist that never really dissipates.

Of course, all this is just barely visible in the pale light from the moon, dimmed and dissipated across the sky by a layer of clouds. 

“Home,” I say without thinking, then frown. _It never feels like it, though_. “Imagine something like Neverland, from those stories. But it’s not a story,” I suddenly feel defensive, though he’s not said a word nor given me a reason to be. “ _I’m_ not a story. I’m _real_ ,” I emphasize, just in case. I can’t see his reaction, though, because he turns away. _I’m real_. 

“Okay,” his voice is even, but I’m suddenly wary. _What if this was a mistake?_ “So why did you bring me here, to your home, then?” I wince at the word, wishing I hadn’t said it. Then I shrug when he looks at me, wishing there was enough light to see him properly. _Why_ did _I bring him?_ It doesn’t feel fair to just say the truth, but I can’t lie. _He trusts me._

“I need your help,” which is not a lie. His eyebrows lift, and I can tell I’ve got him interested. “This is a little hard to explain, but...I’m trapped. Here. I don’t know if the logistics would make sense to you, but I _really_ need your help.” Also true. Also not _entirely_ true. I drop my gaze to the sand, worrying at my lip, until he speaks.

“Okay,” he nods resolutely, and a smile tugs at my cheeks despite the way my gut won’t settle, full of guilt. “So…” he gestures around us - I assume he’s waiting for me to lead him or tell him what I need him to do, or something, but I can’t think straight; the clouds have drifted away, and moonlight highlights half his face, tinting the mussed up fringe that’s been pushed up into a quiff by the wind. I’m enraptured.

“Uh,” he tries again, and I blink twice. “What should I call you?” I blink again, then smack my forehead. 

“Dan! You can call me Dan,” I smile, a little embarrassed at forgetting the most basic of manners. “And what should I call you?” I may or may not have noticed his name while rifling through his things in his room, but I’d like to hear it from him. _Philip Lester._

“Phil,” he grins back, “now, what can I do to help?” My heart feels light in my chest, and I wave a hand toward the jungle.

“This way, good sir,” I tease, and he chuckles. I make it my mission to get him to laugh as much as I can, it’s like listening to magic in audial form. We make our way up the beach, toward the familiar trees and tangles of vines - although, to anyone unacquainted with the area, this might look like an impenetrable wall of foliage. To _Phil_ , it probably does. I like the way his name sounds in my head. I wonder how it would feel on my tongue. _How_ he _would feel on my-_

“So, tell me more,” he slices through my thoughts with his voice, and I inhale sharply, trying to refocus. “What’s got you trapped? Are you…” he trails off, and I can hear the expectant tone. _Am I what?_ I’m afraid to ask what he means, in case my real answer is disappointing. In case _I’m_ disappointing.

“It’ll probably be easier if I show you,” I offer, holding aside a throng of vines for him to walk ahead. _You said trust me, but would you believe me without seeing?_ I don’t know, and I don’t think I want to know the answer. Instead, I brush past him and continue. Fortunately, it isn’t far.


	3. "Tink was not all bad: or, rather, she was all bad just now, but, on the other hand, sometimes she was all good."

**Phil POV:**

I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I mean, I _want_ to, but I’m kind of _really_ confused right now. 

“ _Dan, what’s going on?_ ” I whisper. We’re squatting behind a particularly bushy fern, staring into some kind of camp. To be specific, we’re staring at _Dan_ in that camp, even though he’s stood right next to me. Well, crouched right next to me.

“This is the part that’s hard to explain,” he whispers back, but his voice isn’t as quiet as mine. He points to himself - _or his clone, maybe?_ \- “That’s me.” _Oh._ Maybe not a clone? Or does that _confirm_ the clone theory? I have a thousand questions, but I can’t figure out which to ask first. My head is spinning.

“Right,” Dan speaks again, and I look back to see him staring at me, lips twisted and brow scrunched, “I know you’re confused, just...let me try to explain?” I nod, and he points back to his doppelganger. “That’s me, I’m not actually here right now. Not next to you, that is,” he frowns, and I realise it’s because _I’m_ frowning. 

“What?” It’s all I can manage, because _yeah_ he’s right next to me, what does he mean? _Is the Dan next to me the clone, then?_ I don’t think I’ve blinked.

“Uhm, okay, let’s see…” he looks away, then back to me, then to his clone-doppleganger-thing again. I manage to pull my eyes from him long enough to take a closer look at the other Dan, who’s standing among a group of other guys about our age. A few women walk by, chatting. “My body, it’s over there,” he points again, and I manage a nod as I focus on that Dan. “But my _mind_ , my _spirit_ ,” he gestures to himself. “Does that...kind of make sense?” I shrug, because _does it?_ But we flew here, and he _was_ glowing, and... _sure, why not?_

“Yeah, I guess, but...you don’t exactly _look_ trapped?” I’m not trying to judge his circumstances, but he’s smiling and chatting - well, the _other_ him. _This is confusing_. He frowns back at me, and I swear - now that it’s in my head that he’s sort of a ghost - he goes a little transparent.

“Well, that’s the thing, _that_ me,” he points, “isn’t trapped. It’s _this_ me that’s stuck.” I must look confused again, because he breathes out heavily, then looks back to the other him and bites his lip. _Hello_. I can’t help the way my thoughts shift at the simple action, but I’m very suddenly focused on his lips: they look soft and plump and I’m wondering what they’d _actually_ feel like, so much so that I’m already lifting a hand before I can stop myself.

“I’ll be back in two minutes, time me,” his strange words remind me where I am, what’s happening - well, sort of, I’m still very confused - and I drop my hand, try to pay attention to his eyes. Which look a little pained. I barely have time to nod before he’s standing and crossing the open area of the camp toward his other self.

Not sure what else to do, I start counting in my head as I watch him cross the clearing. Nobody seems to acknowledge his presence, which makes me wonder why we were crouching and being quiet, but things start to make a _little_ more sense when he fully _disappears_ into himself - his other self.

Though I’m inspecting the scene before me as carefully as I can, I don’t know where my Dan went, and I don’t see any change in the other Dan. _When did he become ‘my Dan’?_ I brush the thoughts aside, cheeks flushing a bit, and try to remember where I was in counting. _Just after a minute thirty, I think?_

Like clockwork, my Dan reappears once I reach a hundred and twenty in my head. He crosses the open campground and settles next to me as if nothing happened.

“Does that help explain?” He offers, and I shake my head. Then nod. Then shake it again. He looks like he’s about to speak, so I hold up a finger.

“Hold on, let me try first.” His mouth closes, so I give it a shot. “You, uh, _you_ are sort of living inside...yourself?” I can’t even figure out a way to make that _not_ sound confusing, but Dan’s nodding. “Okay, and I’m guessing that whenever you’re…” I trail off, pointing toward the other Dan, “you’re stuck somehow? You didn’t even look over at me, when you were there,” I add, just realizing it myself.

“Not bad,” he smiles, but it turns sour, lips curling down. “Yeah, mostly I’m stuck in that body. It’s like...imagine there are two minds inside that head, but I have to just sit in the back and let the other mind run things,” I frown when he does, worried at the way his eyebrows scrunch together. “I have no control. Sometimes I wonder…” he trails off, and his eyes look distant. “But I brought you because I think you can help,” he refocuses, smiling softly at me. _Whatever you need, whatever I can do to keep that smile on your face._ I don’t say it out loud, it sounds so cheesy.

“Yeah, sure, what do you need me to do? I mean, I’m not sure I fully understand this, but how can I help?” I realize ninety percent of the things I’ve said have ended as a question, but I really am struggling to grasp all this. “And how, like how did that happen? How are there two minds, and how…” I break off, unsure if it’s a rude question. _It doesn’t sound that bad, to just hang out for a while and pop out as some kind of...spirit thing whenever you’re bored…_ but if he feels trapped, that’s enough reason to help.

“Well, I can answer a lot of that later, but right now…” Dan trails off, glancing over to his doppelganger with a frown; a moment later, my eyes are drawn to a movement by his legs - he’s tapping his fingers on his thighs erratically. “If I don’t get back soon, and _stay_ for a while, the other me might start to get suspicious.” He looks back to me, eyeing me up and down - it’s clear he doesn’t mean it _that_ way, but I hope I’m not blushing at his attention.

“Come with me, quickly,” he grabs my hand, and I don’t protest, still fighting off the heat rushing to my cheeks. We stumble along at a fast walk, so I focus on doing my best to not trip over all the undergrowth. I’m concentrating so intensely, actually, that I almost step right off a cliff - until Dan’s hand in mine tugs me backward. _Wait, why can I touch him if he’s some kind of spirit?_ I’m about to ask, but he’s pulling me again, down an outcropping in the cliff face. We don’t stop until we’re stood outside a cave cut into the cliff, out of the wind and already stocked with some supplies.

“Well this is rather convenient,” I comment, a little joking but mostly surprised. When I look over to Dan, his eyes are flicking nervously between me and the small space - which is actually quite nice, decked out with a mattress and a pile of energy bars, some canisters of water, and a few other necessities. 

“Do you like it?” His voice is so quiet, hopeful, but my eyebrows lift at the question. “I didn’t know for sure when I found you that you’d come back, but I made this first, and I hope it’s okay for now, cause I’ll have to sort of sleep in my own head, but I wanted you to be safe and warm and stuff, and…” he trails off, and I realize I probably still look surprised.

“Oh, yeah, I mean, this is great, thank you!” I’m regretting my earlier bit of sarcasm, but his face lights up, and my heart matches it.

“Okay, good, great, yeah, glad you like it, uh,” he’s mumbling, biting his lip between words, and I can see the flush on his cheeks. _Maybe it’s just from running through the jungle._ I don’t really believe that, though. _Can his cheeks even flush? Maybe I’m imagining things_. “So, I, uh, have to go, but I’ll come back for you later, in the morning, okay? I think...I think I have a plan. But...we can talk tomorrow?” He says it like a question, even though I’ve already agreed to help. Besides, I’m not exactly sure where we are - even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t. _Of course I want to help, though._ I smile.

“Yeah, I look forward to it.”


	4. "After you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but he will never afterwards be quite the same boy."

**Dan POV**

_He likes it. He smiled._ I focus on these things, on how they make my heart race, on the way they make me feel - it’s more concrete than anything I’ve felt in a while. _This is real. He is real. I am real._ The words rush through my mind and ahead of me in a cascade of excitement and I chase them through the jungle, never catching up but never losing sight of them either. 

I stop short at the edge of the camp, though, and the words disappear into the undergrowth. My heart tugs me after them, after the lightness and happiness, but I keep my feet planted firmly on the ground. I let the words I’ve been ignoring, the fear and self-doubt and debasement catch up with me. They feel like a ton of bricks, weighing my shoulders down as I cross the campgrounds.

It’s late, I can see the shifting light as the sun begins to peek up over the horizon, and I hope I’ve missed it. _Please tell me I’ve missed it._

The other me, my other self, is lying on his side on the mattress when I push aside the curtain separating our bed from everyone else’s. I exhale loudly, though I know it doesn’t matter. Nobody will hear. I let the last of my elation, the last of _Phil_ fall from my head, let the bad things take over. I become myself, in a sense, and rejoin my body. The tug into my own head is familiar and uncomfortable, and I settle back. 

**Where have you been?** His voice is clear, and I know he’s not fallen asleep - usually he doesn’t, not without making sure I’m back.

 _You told me to leave, for those nights. I was just wandering the beach, watching the stars._ I respond, shrinking back from his presence in my head. He is overwhelming, mostly. I sleep when he’s awake, it’s less exhausting than battling for a space, fighting just to see what my own body is doing.

 **You’ve been gone longer than usual, jesus christ. You can’t just up and disappear whenever you want for as long as you want, you know I’ll have to report you.** He’s unusually concerned, on edge, and I don’t voice my question in our head but he answers it.

 **Yes, it was fine, everything was fine. Look, just make sure you get back faster next time. I actually like my body, thank you very much.** I frown, though it doesn’t reach our features. It wouldn’t, he’s always in control. That’s how it is. I fought it at first - not that it would’ve made a difference, but I didn’t know that. I was quickly beaten back; he’s not cruel, not really, but there are some things more painful than physical abuse. I huddle further back in my little mental corner. 

_Sorry, I know, I just got distracted._ True true true. I project this thought, the idea of me wandering the beach, into our head and hope he believes me. If he goes probing, asks too many questions, I may let it slip.

 **You’re a fucking daydreamer, jesus. Fine, just make sure it doesn’t happen again. You know what happens if I have to report you.** He settles back, still taking up most of the space in our head, but he leaves me just a little extra room as he shuts down for the evening - what little is left of it.

I can’t sleep, though - I prefer to do that during the day, to pretend I have some autonomy in the evenings while he’s dormant. I don’t move us even the little twitches I can manage, I wouldn’t dare in case he wakes up, but I can think freely when he’s asleep. Sometimes that’s okay, that’s good enough.

I wait until I’m sure, absolutely _positive,_ that he’s unconscious, that he won’t be listening. Then I let myself remember Phil, remember how excited I was to find him and how happy he looked. He smiled _because of me_. I hope he’s alright, alone there. That makes my heart hurt, picturing him by himself in this new, unusual place. _Because of me, also_. I grimace within myself. It’s okay, though, it’ll be okay. He can help, he _wants_ to help. He _wants_ to see me again. If I could move, if I could move our body, I’d be dancing right now. 

It’s been a long time since we danced - I don’t want to, not anymore. After the first night, the first time - which feels like ages ago but is realistically only a couple years - he let me leave those nights, when he parties with the rest of them, when he takes a girl to bed. I don’t know if something went wrong during our separation, but the other me has always been lenient with me. _Almost_ caring, even. 

So whenever we’re asked to _procreate_ \- the word sends a shiver up my spine, and I can tell it’s even reached our body - he lets me leave. 

Sex is required, a part of the experiment. I was born into this life, I had no choice - we had no choice. At birth, the halves of ourselves were separated. I won’t pretend I understand how, nor does the other me, but it happened; I can’t remember a time we were a whole, single mind. Instead, there is him: dominant, charismatic, sarcastic and quick-witted, and abrasive. Then there’s me: softer, pushed aside, quiet, awkward and submissive. 

I don’t know what the endgame is, but the scientist in charge requires fresh people to work on, to breed and evaluate and splice and modify. So once we’re old enough, that’s part of the experiment - they treat it like a party, a celebration, all the other dominant halves of the other people. I hate it, I hated the look on the girl’s face we were with, I hated that I had no control, that I wasn’t myself, just a spectator in our body. We left bruises on her arms, though she seemed to enjoy it; I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but sit in the back of our head and reimagine those bruises, the way the other me had made them.

After that, he told me to leave, for the next time. I didn’t argue.

\-------------------------------

I spend the few hours of early morning in a haze, floating in everything _Phil Phil Phil_. I think, even in our sleep, I’ve made us smile. Just a tiny tug of the corner of our cheek, but I relish the way it feels. Control is not something I have, not ever - the small rebellion, in the face of what I’m going to do, what _Phil_ will help me do, is exhilarating.

When the other me wakes, I’m shoved back in my corner. It’s unexpected, as if he woke suddenly from a dream, and I rush to stow away all my thoughts and hope desperately that he won’t look too closely. I allow my sadness to seep back in, the general melancholy I usually feel.

 **You’re pathetic, you know that?** He chides; his tone is just as mumbled as if he’d said it aloud, still waking from sleep. 

_Yes, I know._ I don’t argue. I learned quickly to be his verbal and emotional punching bag when he requires one. I don’t know what caused it, but if he’s already lashing out before he’s even gotten out of bed, something must’ve happened.

For all his ‘desirable’ traits - so says the scientist, I can’t help but disagree - I’m the helpful one, the generous one, self-sacrificing and kind. So I let him shove me around, inside our head because he needs it. I’m fine.

 **What the fuck has got you so amped up? Did you even sleep? Don’t fucking tell me you left again, you spacey twat.** There’s force behind his words, but I can tell it’s empty anger - not really directed at me. 

_Nothing, I stayed here. You’re hungry, maybe Emily will be at breakfast by now._ Redirecting is easier than arguing, and I know how much he fancies Emily. I don’t - she’s pretty but not really my type. I’m surprised when I feel a drop in our stomach. We sit up abruptly, throwing off the blanket. I can’t help the confusion that ripples off my mind - I don’t doubt it touches his.

 **Fuck Emily.** It’s the only response I get as we stand, pushing aside the curtain and marching off in the direction of the food tent. My mind is racing, whirling a tiny tornado in our heads, but I try to contain it in my little corner. Fortunately, he’s rather focused on the thunderstorm of thoughts of his own creation. I manage to avoid most of the lightning strikes, though I listen closely for the rain. 

Because he can’t hide his thoughts from me - because he’s never had to, because it never mattered if he thought differently, because he’s in control - I listen. 

Oh, Emily was...last night, _she_ was the one he took to bed. And...he didn’t love it. He _hated_ it. The slam of our tray on the wooden table is jarring - I can tell how much it’s bothering him, conflicting feelings swirling as he stabs at the plate. In fact...he won’t say it out loud, but I can feel the way he does, I can feel the revulsion churning our stomach as he tries to keep the scrambled eggs down. He _hates_ what happened last night, being with Emily. His disgust is stronger than mine ever was - more of a punch-the-wall kind than my run-away kind, but it’s so absurdly clear that I can’t imagine why I didn’t see it before.

 _You…_ I barely start the thought when he shuts me down with a wave of self-doubt, self-hatred. It’s not a physical attack, but it hurts just as badly. I drown in it.


	5. “There are many different kinds of bravery. There's the bravery of thinking of others before one's self."

**Phil POV**

I wake with a start, the deep scent of wet earth in my nose, and my eyes fly open. Heart racing, I actually _jump_ to my feet, which was a mistake because bare feet on cool stone is a recipe for shock that I definitely wasn’t ready for.

Light bounces off the rough stone walls, giving me just enough to see by in the very back of the cave - that’s when it all comes flooding back, and I sit heavily on the mattress I just leapt from. _I’m on a strange jungle island with a spirit boy who’s trapped and needs my help,_ I repeat this sentence in my head at least four more times, then once out loud, just to be sure I’m saying it right. To be sure I’m not going insane. But I’m sat in a cave, not my bedroom, and I can see the jungle across the ravine outside, not the bland towering buildings of London, so it can’t all be in my head... _right?_

I try not to think too much about the fact that I _flew_ here. Or about the spirit boy who held my hand and looked at me with those brown eyes and smiled at me like _that_. I can’t fight my own smile, grinning down at the stone floor like it’s just given me the best birthday gift ever.

When my stomach grumbles, I turn to stare at the pile of energy bars in the corner of the room. It’s not _great,_ but I can’t forget the way Dan beamed at me, immensely proud of himself for putting this all together. I grab a bar - the chocolatey one, which reminds me of how _he_ reminds me of hot chocolate - and return to the bed to think, make a mental list.

 _What I know:_ Dan’s stuck in some kind of double-mind and has no control when he’s in his body. Dan needs to escape, somehow. Dan thinks I can help. Dan’s _very_ pretty to look at. Dan- 

I stop myself, realizing the direction the list is going. I take another bite of the energy bar.

 _What I don’t know:_ **__**_How_ I’m supposed to help. What’s actually going on. How Dan got stuck that way. Where we are. 

I decide not to continue when it hits me that my ‘what I don’t know’ list is pretty all-encompassing. _I wonder where Dan is?_ He said he’d return in the morning, and I pop the last piece of the bar in my mouth before standing and making my way to the entrance.

The sunlight is bright, almost unbearably so, when I step outside. I glance up briefly, long enough to gauge that the sun’s halfway to the center of the sky, then drop my gaze and rub at my eyes. _Still morning, so I guess I should wait?_ I meander back to the bed, sitting down and letting my thoughts carry me away.

When they inevitably turn to Dan again, I stand and start pacing. Every fourth pass of the cave, I step outside and check to see if Dan’s there, or if the sun has moved much. It hasn’t, and Dan’s nowhere to be found. 

_What if something happened? What if he can’t get out? What if he’s trapped for good?_ The thoughts rush at me hard and fast, and I stop my pacing, a foot suspended mid-air.

I spin on a heel, clambering ungracefully up the cliffside path and to the jungle above. My heart’s racing, and my feet are itching to run into the jungle, to find the camp and shake the other Dan until he lets my Dan go, but I _can’t remember where the camp is_. I bounce on my toes, scanning the line of trees for something familiar, then spot a cactus - so out of place, among the jungle foliage - and decide it’s a sign.

I march off, watching the ground below me; partly, I’m worried about tripping, but mostly I’m trying to watch for footsteps, or a path, or anything that might lead me to the camp. 

Which is how I run into three branches and two hanging vines - the first one was definitely a snake in its past life, the way it grabbed at me - and how I almost walk right into the middle of the campground unawares. It’s only when the path widens significantly that I look up, then dive behind a nearby fern because there are suddenly a _lot_ of people.

And, really, there are _lots_ : some look as though they’ve just woken up, trudging slowly toward some large open-sided tent that seems - and smells - like it’s serving food. Others look refreshed, though, and move in small groups - they chat, bright-eyed, and I decide I should listen for any useful information. _How would I even know what’s useful, though?_ I still don’t even know what I’m meant to do to help... _Dan!_

I see him, or - I have to assume - the _other_ Dan, as he emerges from one of the hut-like structures scattered around the edges of the campground. He’s walking forcefully, if such a thing is possible - his fists are clenched at his sides, and he’s almost _stomping_ his way to the food area. It’s odd, he doesn’t look quite like my Dan, more like if someone took my Dan - _quit calling him that_ \- and grated at the edges, until he was a rough approximation of the Dan I know.

Despite this, the harshness and anger, he still looks... _stop! Focus, how do you help?_ I take a deep breath, keeping an eye on Dan. I have to assume my Dan is in there somewhere, though I can’t imagine him being so angry - there’s no way he’s in control right now. _Oh no, what if the other Dan found out why my Dan was gone for so long? What if he found out about_ me _? What if he hurt my Dan?_

That thought makes me fall back, letting the ferns obscure my view for a moment. _What can he do to my Dan, though?_ I try not to let my imagination run wild, because the campgrounds are emptying as most of the people head toward the food tent. _That’s where I’ll get more information._ I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and tap into some bravery, then skirt around the edges of the clearing toward the collection of tables.

Fortunately, most everyone is focused on the food, and my few blunders go unnoticed. I’m just settling with my back to a particularly thick tree trunk near where Dan’s sat when I hear some new voices join him.

“Hey, Dan,” it’s a woman’s voice, though it sounds high-pitched and whiny, and she draws out the ‘hey’ in an irritatingly flirtatious tone. The wooden picnic benches creak slightly as she sits down.

“Hey man, what’s up?” A guy this time, and another creak.

A third creak sounds, but no voice. I’m tempted to peek around the corner, but the table is partly facing me - I’m sure, with four people all looking around at each other, someone would notice me.

“So…” the girl again, drawing out the word as before. 

“So?” Dan’s voice, clipped and short. An awkward silence follows, and I’m tense just listening - I can’t imagine how it must feel to actually be seated at the table.

“What’s wrong with you, man?” The other guy’s voice, and I’m surprised at how quickly he’s taken on a cruel tone. “Couldn’t satisfy your girl last night?” I clamp a hand over my mouth, shocked at the call-out _and_ at the insinuation. _Dan was...with someone last night?_ I lean more heavily against the tree, trying not to let my imagination run with the idea of Dan with someone else.

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Jack,” Dan again, low and full of malice. I wonder if his cheeks are red right now. Mine certainly are, and nobody’s even talking about me. “Why don’t you ask _Emily_ ,” I tense at the name, suddenly feeling a little malicious myself. _Jealous, the word is jealous._ I frown, trying to focus on the conversation.

Which has taken quite a turn.

“You could fucking pick _anyone_ , you narcissistic asshole!” The guy, shouting at Dan, I assume. The girl - Emily? - is talking, too quietly for me to hear her words, but the tone switches back and forth between defensive and offensive, and I can kind of guess what’s happening.

“Fuck off, it’s not like she didn’t want it,” I hear Dan again, definitely on defense now. And _close_. Curiosity momentarily overrides logic, and I peek around the side of the tree. Only to have Dan run smack into me. He stays standing, but - of course - I trip backwards over something behind my foot.

I am not at all big on cussing, but I feel like there’s only one sufficient word for this situation.

“ _Shit_.”


	6. "That is all we are, lookers-on. Nobody really wants us. So let us watch and say jaggy things, in the hope that some of them will hurt.”

**Dan POV**

**__**_Nonononononononono!_

I can’t stop my nerves racing, fear jumbling everything around until all I can say is _no_. I’ve been hiding from his wrath since he woke up, barely tuning into his argument with Jack and Emily. Chris had been silent through the whole thing, not that he’s ever been big on verbal fights - physical’s more his cup of tea.

But then my stupid other self had to go and storm off into the stupid jungle outside the stupid campsite, and _Phil_...I forgot I was meant to meet him this morning, with all this Emily nonsense, and…

I’m peering through our eyes, though I know I can’t stop whatever the other me is about to do. Phil’s sprawled on the ground, staring up at us with wide blue eyes, and I hear him cuss below his breath. 

“Who the _fuck_ are you?” Our voice is still dripping with malice from the recent fight, and I can feel our muscles tensing up. 

_Please, don’t..._ I have no expectations, he never listens to me, but at least I can try. Phil’s still on the ground, eyes and mouth both wide as he scoots back and away from us - I’m immensely grateful for the tall foliage surrounding us.

“Please, don’t, uh...I’m…” He’s staring at us like he’s searching for something. _Like he’s searching for me._ If I had control over our heart, it’d be breaking right now.

 _Please, please don’t hurt him._ I don’t dare hope that he’s listening, that he might take it out on me instead of Phil, that I can do _anything_ to protect him. But I try anyway. There’s a solid ten seconds of silence before he says anything. And it isn’t out loud.

 **Who the fuck is that? And why do you know him?** He’s still angry, but there’s just the slightest hint of curiosity, and I cling desperately to that.

 _Phil, his name is Phil, please don’t hurt him, please. Just let him go, take it out on me._ I don’t know how much I should say, how much is _too_ much, how much would put him in more danger. _And please, don’t tell the doc._ If word gets to the scientist in charge, Phil’s...well, he’s as good as gone: at best, he’ll be dead. At worst, he wouldn’t be himself. 

**Don’t fucking ignore me, I asked why you know him. Where did you meet him? How did he get here?** The curiosity is back in full force, though I can tell he’s trying to stay pissed. **If you don’t tell me…** the threat is left hanging, but I’ve already imagined every worst-case scenario. 

_Okay, okay, fine, but can we talk elsewhere? If anyone else discovers him..._ I trail off now, but he takes a step forward, toward Phil. Who jumps back from us, scrambling to his feet. He glances off toward the campsite, and I’m reminded just how exposed we are. _Please, let’s just go somewhere else? Or they’ll see him._ We point stiffly away from the camp, in the direction of the beach, and I feel a pang in our gut as Phil recoils before turning and walking.

A pang in _our_ gut. Surely I didn’t cause that?

We walk in silence until we hit the edge of the jungle, sand mixing in with the foliage littering the ground. 

**Talk.** It’s a command, a tone I’m more than used to, so I explain. I try to keep it minimal, but things slip through the cracks. 

_He...I...he’s going to help. I found him. He wants to help._ The sigh within our head is so audible that I wonder if he didn’t sigh aloud as well. _Please, he can help._

“Phil, is it?” We sound...drained when we speak, and I can almost feel a weight tugging at our shoulders. Phil stops walking, turning quickly and dropping his gaze to the sand. Another tug at our stomach, and I wonder once again if _my_ feelings are strong enough to be manifesting like that. 

“Yes,” he sounds defeated, and our eyes narrow. 

“The other me,” we wave a hand toward our head, and Phil looks up and nods, “found you?” _Why are you asking all these questions if you know the answers?_ I poke at his mind inquisitively, then back away when he shoves at me. 

**Shut up. Unless you want me to report him.** I still and silence myself; when his attention returns to the outside world, I relax just slightly.

“Yes,” Phil’s responses are one-worded, and I can tell he’s trying not to get us in trouble. His hands find each other in front of his stomach, fiddling nervously. His eyes haven’t met ours since the campgrounds - and then, that was fear swimming in those oceans, not the happiness he had earlier. I huddle in my little mental corner, pulling up those images instead. I don’t want to see what the other me intends to do.

“ _Look at me,_ ” our words are sharp, and I can’t help but look: Phil lifts his gaze immediately, his hands freeze. _Fear_. It’s the only thing I can think, trying desperately to focus on the other, happier eyes - because, really, they look so different they could be someone else’s. 

We stay silent for a long moment, watching Phil carefully. I can feel rage simmering just below the surface, ready to burst at any second, and terrifying images swim up to me: dark purpling bruises on Phil’s cheekbones, crimson blood leaking from his lip, eye swollen shut - the scenes aren’t real, I know, but they drag me under just the same. _This is my fault._

 **Shut. Up.** I don’t realize I’ve thought it to him, or loud enough that he can hear, but his response is swift and curt - but not angry. Well, not at me, nor at Phil, it seems. I tap into the feeling, shocked that it’s directed at _himself_. 

_Phil is afraid, perhaps you should say something?_ I don’t know if I should trust my thoughts right now, the instinctual gut feeling I get from his reaction, but desperately hope I’m right. It’d be nice, to be right about this. To agree on something, for once. He runs a hand across our face, blocking out the frightened Phil for a moment. When our hand returns to our side, Phil hasn’t moved - his head is still bowed, he’s still staring up at us through a sweep of black hair that’s fallen across his eyes.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” our tone is cold, icy, and I try to contain my hope. “Whatever your fucking plan is, I want _no_ part. I don’t want to see you _ever_ again,” he points, and Phil flinches. “And I don’t want to hear a word about this,” I know the last bit is directed at me. “I’m going to walk away, now, and you’re both going to stay, and I am going to pretend I never saw any of this,” there’s a churning in our stomach, and I can tell how much he dislikes this. But I don’t question it, I don’t wait for a response, I let him turn and I step outside us in one smooth movement.

I don’t look back when he disappears through the bushes.


	7. “For long the two enemies looked at one another."

**Other Dan POV**

**__**_What the fuck is wrong with me?_ First this...fucking _nonsense_ with Emily, now the other me has got a crush as well? He can try to hide his feelings, but that stupid desperation when I was about to beat him to high heaven made it pretty obvious.

I stomp away, barely feeling the slip of consciousness as the other me stays behind. Leaves crunch under my feet, echoing in my head and making my headache worse. Fucking headaches, fucking alcohol, fucking hangovers. _Drinking makes it bearable, though_. I shove the thought aside. 

A voice follows me, one I recognize now as belonging to this Phil guy. _Fucking hell, he’s just as meek as the other me. What a great fucking fit._ I picture him sprawled below me, the fear in his eyes. I almost snapped, then, until I felt a drop in my stomach. One I _surely_ didn’t cause. _Of course I didn’t, because that fucking other half of me has_ feelings _and he had to go and shove them down my throat._

I stop when I realize I’ve been walking slowly, despite my frustration, trying to make sense of the words I can still hear behind me. _I should keep tabs on them._ I said I didn’t want to know anything, because god knows what the doc can take out of my head, but I might need this as leverage later on - knowledge is power, and all that. So I turn again, taking careful, silent footsteps back toward the beach. I stay a few yards back from Phil and - though I can’t see him - the other me. 

Phil’s smiling. 

“Okay, if you’re sure we can trust him,” he’s a little wary, clearly, but his eyes are bright as he stares ahead of him. At the other me. “So what _is_ the plan, then?” It’s silent, and I stare out from behind a tangle of vines. I watch him carefully, trying to extrapolate the conversation from his facial expressions - a scrunch of his eyebrows, hiding half his blue eyes, then they lift high onto his forehead. He twists his lips, looking aside in thought and crossing his arms. Everything about him is bright, with the sun shining, and it makes me want to punch a fucking tree. _Nobody should be allowed to look that happy, to be glowing like that._ I don’t know where the thought comes from. I still want to punch something.

“You want us to _what?_ ” He refocuses on the space the other me must be occupying, incredulous. “How are we meant to do that? I don’t know anything about _anything_ when it comes to science or electronics or…” he trails off, then nods. “I suppose, yeah, if you can figure out what you need,” he squints a little, “Yeah, okay, if you think I can do it, I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” he’s grinning again. At the other me. Something swirls in my stomach, and I don’t want to think about what it is. 

I can’t blame it on the other me. Well, I _can_ , but not entirely. I frown. _I’m not jealous of him, just still pissed about last night._ As _those_ memories wash back over me, I fix an angry glare on Phil - not that he can see me - and the other me - not that I can see him. Satisfied that they seem to be done talking about the plan, though I didn’t learn much, I begin retracing my steps.

When a laugh sounds behind me, I freeze mid-stride, clenching fists at my hips. _What is so fucking great about the other me that Phil could be laughing like that?_ There’s a reason we were separated like this - I have all the desirable, dominant traits. It’s part of the program. He’s got all the undesirable ones, and _obedience_. That’s the key to the whole operation - the submissive minds are the perfect hosts, and when they’ve outlived their usefulness, the dominant bits (like me) get to move on to new bodies.

So _why the fuck does this Phil guy like the other me so much?_ I’m far enough away now that I can crush the foliage under my feet without fear they’ll hear me, so I do - the softness, the gentle sound, it’s immensely unsatisfying. _He’s a weak, awkward, pliant little shit who stares up at the sky and can’t handle a little criticism, who would prefer him?_ I can’t get the images out of my head, they sit side by side as if mocking me: the absolute terror in Phil’s eyes as he collapsed to the ground and stared up at me, then Phil, watching the other me with excitement and endearment and fascination, like he _cared_ what the other me had to say. 

My path has turned from the campgrounds to the river, and I’m glad. I do _not_ need to explain why I’m pissed off right now. _They’d all just assume it was because of Jack and Emily, though_. I groan, collapsing on a wide rock next to a particularly calm part of the river. Nobody ever comes out here, and I rarely go myself, but it’s quiet and I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, and I don’t have to put up a front of _yes I love punching people and yes I’m ambitious as fuck and yes I want every pretty girl in camp and yes I want to have the perfectly-designed body once I get bored with this one and..._ The list of pretending goes on and on, not that I’d ever admit it.

Everyone else is so... _normal_. I joke, I laugh, I prod at the other me inside my head, I fuck whichever girl wants to dance with me on the nights we’re supposed to, and I brag about it the next day. And I hate it. I let my toes dip into the tepid water of the river and drop my head into my hands. 

_Why the fuck can’t I just be normal?_

_Because you aren’t?_ I startle at the other voice in my head - I hadn’t even noticed, so wrapped up in my own issues, that the other me had returned.

 **Fuck off.** I don’t need him here, and I almost send a piercing bolt of self-hatred his way. I’d rather he take it than me.

 _Fine._ He settles back, into the little corner I’ve allowed him - some of the others tell me how they expand within their minds to crush their submissive halves, but I’ve never been able to do it. I _could_ , but it feels uncomfortable and it usually gives me a headache.

I wait for a few minutes, expecting the other me to take off, to go spend time with _Phil_ , but he doesn’t. Just sits there. 

**I basically gave you a free fucking pass, aren’t you gonna go play with your boy toy?** I hope the jealousy doesn’t come across in my head, because I’m barely holding onto civility right now. 

_He has some things to do. It wouldn’t make sense for me to be there. Besides, he’s not my…’boy toy’..._ I can feel the embarrassment rolling off him, hitting me in waves. And the longing. 

**Disgusting. You _wish_ he were, though.** I scoff at him, aloud, and swirl my toe again. Acting revolted isn’t hard, the hard part is directing it at him instead of myself.

 _Shut up! I do not...I..._ he tenses, if that’s a thing that can be felt in my head, and recoils on instinct. _I’m so sorry, I didn’t...I shouldn’t have told you to shut up, I just got carried away and I...I mean..._ he’s rambling now, shoving regret at me and pulling as far back into his little space as he can. 

**Stop, jesus fuck. I just meant it’s pretty obvious you like him, he likes you too.** The moment I say it, I wish I hadn’t said it, but I can’t take it back. I can’t un-think it. The pulse of surprise that lights him up makes me want to punch something. Somehow, he didn’t fucking know that Phil liked him - how he could miss it, I have no clue. Oblivious fuck. **Can’t for the life of me imagine why, though. You’re pretty pathetic.**

 _He...no, he can’t possibly. I mean, he’s too...amazing._ He sounds breathless, another thing I can’t conceive of being conveyed in my head, but there it is. I roll my eyes, falling back on the flat rock with a crack to our head. The pain clears my own mind, but I can tell it disorients him.

 **So what happens, then?** I prompt, jealousy and spite getting the better of me. **You think you’ll just be able to up and disappear? You’re too nice for that, you think you could cause him that kind of pain? Do you really think you can go through with your plan?** Resolve prickles out from him, just a little, and I cough out a sardonic laugh. He really thinks he can do it.

 _He doesn’t have to know, not really._ I can see the tendrils of the lie he’s come up with, what he told Phil. What he let Phil believe.

 **So you’re fine just breaking his heart, as long as you don’t have to see the aftermath?** I have no clue where this sudden moral compass comes from, but the idea of those bright eyes blurred with tears is infuriating. **I think I’ve rubbed off on you. Maybe he won’t miss you much after all if you’re like me - you saw how he looked at me.** I bury the feeling of loss that sweeps through me, projecting only the bitterness I feel.

He’s silent for so long, I wonder if he didn’t actually decide to up and leave. A quick prod at his consciousness confirms he’s still here, though, just annoyingly quiet. I’m about to speak again, maybe even laugh at his absurdity, when he responds.

_I think he’d like you just fine._


	8. "The reason was so simple: I'm fond of her too. We can't both have her."

**Phil POV**

I pause for a moment to reorient myself - directions have never been my forte. _He said it was impossible to miss, once you get there._ I’m at the base of the mountain-volcano-thing, which I could’ve done without knowing is an actual _volcano_ , and wandering around aimlessly. Supposedly, there’s a pretty obvious door somewhere around here, but I’ve yet to find it.

If I can get this door open, Dan - _my_ Dan - can get inside, get whatever he needs to un-trap himself, and get out. I just have to figure out how to do that. _Dan thought I could, for some reason, so I’m sure I can._ He didn’t explain exactly how he’s going to get out, but he seemed pretty sure he could - I just have to find the-

Sun reflects off metal, and I’m briefly blinded. I blink hard, then rush forward. Then stop. _Evil scientist, according to Dan - I don’t want to run right into a trap._ I skirt the general area, creeping closer and testing the ground in front of me, doing my best to channel Indiana Jones and James Bond. When nothing explodes or sets off alarm bells, I make my way to the door itself: solid metal, with only a keypad off to one side. 

That’s the other thing - Dan thinks I can hack the keypad? I have no idea _why_ he thinks that, when I literally have no mechanical or electrical skills, but I have to figure something out. _He’s counting on me._ This little foray is meant to get me familiar with the area, and the door. If I can open it now without triggering anything, I should be set to do it again tomorrow night - we’re not wasting any time.

I jump when a scraping metallic sound hits my ears, then scramble backward into the jungle. I barely manage to slide behind a group of trees, heart racing, when a man steps out of the now-open door. He’s staring expectantly in the direction I just came from. _Oh no, did they see me somehow? I hope they can’t trace this back to Dan..._ I follow his gaze, trying to see past the leaves and bushes.

Suddenly, a motor sounds from the direction both the man and I had been staring, and I hold my breath and lean back into a particularly wide tree trunk - out of the corner of my eye, I spot the wheels of an ATV-looking vehicle, though I don’t dare peek out from my hiding spot until it’s safely stopped by the door. If the driver noticed me, they don’t say anything to the man at the door. 

By the time I muster up enough courage to check the entrance, the door’s fully shut and the men are gone - only the ATV remains. Before I can psych myself out, I rush over to the vehicle and give it a quick scan: keys, still in the ignition, and a paper taped to the dash. _Maybe..._ I skim the page, noticing numbers, but they don’t seem to have a keycode on them - _wait, is it a schedule?_

It’s almost dusk, and I can see today’s listed next to an eighteen-hundred. Tomorrow’s is twenty-one, which I have half a second to commit to memory before the squealing of the door opening sends me flying back to my hiding spot. _Tomorrow, nine at night._

\-----------------------------

**Dan POV**

When we return to the camp, it’s fairly quiet. Nobody stops us, nobody asks what’s wrong - really, it’s because nobody cares: we look angry, so people stay out of the way. I sit in my mental corner, just a little happy. _He likes Phil, too. He just won’t admit it._ That’ll be good, I think. That might help.

We only stop by the outdoor kitchen to grab some leftovers - the food’s long since gone cold, sitting out, but we choke it down anyway. The other me has been radiating frustration since we talked, which was several hours ago. We had laid on the rock, basking in the sun until it disappeared below the horizon, and I let the warmth on our skin lull me into a semi-sleep. 

Despite the frequent waves of the other me’s emotions - anger, disappointment, hatred, doubt, circling around and around again - I actually managed to rest a little. Now I sit calmly, though I can tell the other me is annoyed at my silence. Which is odd, since he’s usually enforcing it.

 **Why are you so fucking quiet?** The voice in our head is loud and abrasive, but it doesn’t faze me. Nothing really has, not since our discussion earlier. I’ll be honest, I’ve been kind of fantasizing about Phil, about the kind of life we could have - but the other me is right, in a way. After tomorrow, after I’m free, none of that will matter. But it’s nice to think about.

 _I don’t understand, wouldn’t you prefer my silence?_ It’s an honest question, but I know it’ll get him riled. I don’t really care, though. Any damage he could do won’t last long, anyway. Though I do wince when his knuckles hit the wood wall beside our bed.

 **Fucking hell. Talk when I say to talk, shut up when I say so. How hard is that to understand?** I know he’s skirting the issue, the real reason he’s lashing out, but I don’t force it. I just wait. And wait. He flops onto the bed, the unceremonious action undermining his angry, commanding demeanor. Our tiny room is set apart from others, and nobody will question any unusual sounds that manage to escape into the shared space. Violence isn’t exactly discouraged.

It’s funny, how I’ve achieved some kind of peace in spite of my circumstances. The throbbing in our hand is a drumbeat, and I let it draw me into a trance. Nothing matters, not really, not now. I’ll be free soon.

 **I said _talk_ , you piece of shit.** A spear of hate and malice flies at me in our head, but it’s off-kilter and I don’t really feel it. If I could, if I had any control, a smile would tug at the corner of our lips. Instead, they part, and a sigh escapes. His next words are quiet enough to rival my own, and hope flutters around me.

**What am I supposed to _do_?**

\--------------------------------

**Other Dan POV**

The stupid little twat, just sitting in my head, being a smug asshole. I can tell he’s quiet on purpose, but I can’t focus enough to force him to talk. Hell, I can’t focus enough to even figure out what I want him to talk _about_. 

I sigh aloud, because that’s a lie. I know _exactly_ what I want him to talk about - _who_ I want him to talk about - but I don’t want to say it. Which is why he’s being a fucking pain and _making_ me say it.

 **What am I supposed to _do_? ** I had meant the words to be irate, raging, to demand an answer from him, but the fight dies before I get them out. I sound soft, like him. 

_About?_ I slam the side of my fist against the wall, setting my fingers throbbing again. 

**You fucking know what.** I know he’s watching my thoughts, I know he saw, I know he can see. **This was supposed to be _your_ stupid little crush and you infected me with it.** It’s as close to the truth as I’m willing to admit - though, honestly, I know almost _nothing_ about this guy who showed up and walked off with the heart of the other me.

 _You want me to tell you about him? I don’t know much, either._ His voice is small, smaller than usual, like he’s actually embarrassed to have the upper hand - like he doesn’t want it, now that he’s got it. I bring my hands to my face, rubbing absently at my eyes and wincing at the dull ache from my apparent need to punch things. 

**Just talk.** I growl in my head, and a groan accompanies it in the outside world. He _does_ talk, this time, and I fall asleep with blue eyes in my head and throbbing in my hand.


	9. “I don’t know if you have ever seem a map of a person’s mind."

**Phil POV**

We agreed to meet before dawn on the beach. The other him likes to sleep in, so as long as he’s not gone too long, we can talk. Go over the plan. I’m grinning - have been since I woke up, if I can even call it ‘waking’. 

After my evening trip to the volcano - which left me buzzing with excitement and pride that I’d been able to sort of accomplish my task, that I’ll be able to help Dan - I hadn’t slept, not really. Instead, I drifted in and out of a kind of fantasy trance. 

Just as the sun peeks over the horizon, bathing the sand in gold and yellow, Dan - _my_ Dan - emerges from the line of trees. I’ve been sat on a rock since I got here, but I stand as soon as I see him. 

Then the sun rises again in the moment his eyes light up and his lips stretch in a wide smile. I’m not sure why, but I feel the need to protect him, to make sure that he’s happy like this _always_. Watching him make his way across the beach, toes digging into the sand with each step, my heart flutters in my chest - _I_ can _make him happy, that’s what I’m doing, that’s why I’m helping._

“Hi,” he pauses just a few steps away, arms wrapping around his middle, and I smirk when his eyes drift to the ground beside him. _How can someone be so adorable?_

“Hey,” I move toward him, just a little closer, and the action makes him look up. “I have good news,” I offer, mostly because I just want to see him grinning again. Also because I actually have good news, but the words have their intended effect: he inhales sharply, lips curling up and parting slightly, accompanied by a deep dimple on his cheek. The sunlight makes it stand out, and I’m tempted to poke it, just to show him I appreciate its existence. _His_ existence.

“Really?” The hint of doubt hiding behind his gaze, snuck into his tone, makes me wish I’d just said my good news from the start.

“Yes, really. Nine tonight, that’s when the door will be open,” I try to keep my voice even, waiting to gauge his reaction - the end goal was getting the door open, but he’d had some complex plan for how I could go about accomplishing it. I hope this will suffice.

Out of nowhere, arms wrap around my shoulders, I hug back on instinct. Though I’m more than content to stay, Dan pulls away almost immediately, jaw dropped and hands raised in front of him, like I might be about to lash out and he’s ready to protect himself.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No,” I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. At all,” I add, hoping my eyes convey what I’m afraid to put in words. _Hug me as much as you’d like, really._ Dan’s hands lower slowly, coming to a stop beside his hips, and I’m rewarded with the smallest of smiles.

“Okay,” is the only response I get, though I could swear he’s actually _glowing_ a bit. 

“Oh!” I shout, then curse myself - Dan’s tensed, hands lifting again just slightly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be loud, I just forgot one other thing,” _I hope this is okay_ , “the door’s being opened by other...uh, I think they’re scientists, not like you and…the other you?” When Dan frowns, brows scrunching, I worry I’ve said something wrong. _Was that insulting?_

“At nine, though?” His eyes have drifted to the sand, and he crosses his arms at his chest. When he chews his lip, I have to drop my eyes to the ground. _Focus, this isn’t about that. One problem at a time. Worry about feelings later._

“Yeah, will that be a problem? We can try to-”

“No, no,” his gaze is unfocused, and he waves a hand in the air dismissively. “It’ll be fine, I just have to adjust my original plan,” when he looks back up to me, he must decide I look concerned. “No! I mean, it’s fine, it’s not a big deal, and you did all the hard work for me anyway, _thank you_.” His soft smile sparks a bubble of warmth in my chest. “I just...one other thing, I need you to wait in the cave tonight. The rest I can handle myself. And...I’ll come get you, but you have to wait, okay?”

I want to laugh at how serious he’s gone, lips turning down and eyebrows scrunched, but I think the feeling comes more from nerves than actual humor. _This is happening, he’s going to be free - free?_ With a jolt, I realize I have no idea what ‘free’ actually means. Will he exist just like this? Sort of corporeal but not really? Will he still be able to fly? My mouth opens, the questions already on my tongue, but Dan’s eyes have glazed over again.

“Dan?” He inhales at my voice, but it’s soft and light and it ends in a smile instead of fear. Unfortunately, it morphs into a frown as he glances past me toward the slowly rising sun.

“Thank you again, Phil, I have to go though. The other me is sure to be waking soon, and I really should get back,” brown eyes meet mine for a brief moment, then he’s turning toward the foliage; all I can do is watch him disappear.

\--------------------

It’s not until much later - following a well-deserved nap and snack - that I realize the glaring flaw in the plan: what happens _after_. I’ve been so focused on getting Dan what he needs that I’ve completely forgotten the rest of the plan - we have to get off the island, somehow. 

Dan had explained - briefly and in _very_ simple terms - what’s going on here, on this island. Which means we need to get out of here the moment he’s free. At first, I do my best to puzzle it out myself - _surely the scientist has a way on and off the island, or maybe Dan will still be able to fly, or we can get in contact with someone, or-_ it’s about at this point I realize I don’t have enough to work with.

Determined, I stand from the mattress and march out into the cooling air of the late afternoon. _At least I still have some time to find Dan, so we can figure out what to do after._ The increasingly familiar jungle crowds in around me, and I try to keep my mind on my objective: find Dan.

By the time I arrive at the campsite, I realize the fault in my strategy: Dan will be in the other Dan’s body. _I do not want to face that wrath - especially because he_ specifically _said to keep him out of it._ We haven’t talked much about the other Dan, but it’s clear that my Dan is more than terrified of him.

I peek out behind the trunk of a tree, scanning the camp; first goal: locate Dan. Even if he isn’t my Dan, my Dan is in there somewhere. _I can figure out the rest as I go._ It’s a horrible tactic, I know, but I can’t wait around forever - my Dan will have to leave almost an hour before nine to get to the door, and the sun’s already pretty low in the sky.

At first, I’m flipping between taking quick peeks of the mostly-empty campgrounds and hiding behind the tree the moment anyone looks my way. After a particularly frightening close call, though, I resolve to count to a hundred before resuming my search.

I nearly squeak when I notice how crowded the camp has become: hordes of people migrate toward the large tent where I assume dinner’s now being served, based on the smells and the sinking sun. By some miracle - or maybe because he’s several inches taller than everyone else - I spot Dan. The other Dan, but still Dan. _Now what?_ I really am horrible at this planning thing.


	10. “Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.”

**Dan POV**

I can’t believe Phil actually did it. I can’t believe I’m going to be free. It’s not quite excitement that bubbles in my chest, but something quieter. Peace, maybe.

 **‘Peace’, really? You’re going to feel real fucking peaceful the moment he figures out what you did.** I shy away from the aggression, pulling back into my corner and tugging my thoughts along with me. We scoff aloud, stood in line and waiting for food. **Yeah, I guess you will.** Another scoff. A piece of me knows he’s right, but everything else is just...calm.

 _He’ll be alright. You’ll help him get home, right?_ Things have been tense between us - among us? I’ve never found the right way to describe it - since yesterday, but his lashings have only been verbal in nature, and even then, there’s little force behind them. Except when it comes to this - on this, he is absolutely relentless. It’s exhausting.

 **Yes, you twat. Didn’t I already say that?** He spoons some mashed potatoes onto his plate with far more force than they deserve, splattering some on our arm, but I can’t be bothered to care. Why should I, when none of this will matter by morning? The thought is like a balm, soothing everything in me that wants to worry or cower in fear. 

_Just take care of-_ I break off the thought, because he’s turned now, so we’re facing the treeline on the other side of the campsite. And I _swear_ I just saw a flash of black. _Hey, did you see that?_ If I could make my heart race, it would be going twice as fast.

 **See-** then he trails off as well, because there it is again - not obvious enough that it would draw attention, but I’ve dreamt about that hair, about the person it’s attached to, so much that it’s impossible not to notice.

 _Can I-_

**Go.** I send a tentative tendril of gratitude his way, then split off and rush across the now-barren campsite to where Phil’s hidden in the bushes.

By the time I approach the treeline, he’s stood up a bit, and I check back over my shoulder to ensure nobody’s able to see us; relief sweeps through me when I find all eyes still focused on their plates. 

“ _Phil_ ,” I whisper-shout, not that anyone could actually hear me - the key benefit of being surrounded by only the people like me and my other self. “What are you doing, you’re supposed to stay clear until after tonight!” I’d told the other me where to find the little cave, once everything’s done, so he can help him get home.

“I know, but we didn’t talk about _after_ tonight,” I feel fire in my hand when Phil takes it, leading me away from the edge of the camp and deeper into the jungle. _After tonight..._ I suppress a sigh, because I can’t face this. I can’t tell him and have to endure his reaction. _I can bear my own pain, but not yours, not when you’ve been nothing but kind to me. Not when...not when I care about you like this._

“I’ll come get you,” _not a lie,_ “after, and I’ll make sure you get home. It’ll be fine, but you have to wait in the cave, okay?” With more strength than I fear I’ll ever manage again, I pull my hand from his. My heart - if it were mine, if it were _actually there_ \- breaks in my chest at the way his face falls.

“Okay, but _after_ , how are we getting away?” He pushes on, though I can see the hurt swimming in his eyes. “Will you still be able to fly, or will that change?” I frown, biting at my lip.

“That...that’ll change. But it’s alright, I have everything planned,” _not a lie,_ “don’t you trust me?” Guilt swirls, threatening to eat me alive. _It’ll all be over soon: the guilt, the not-lying, the pain of seeing Phil think I’ve-_ I stop mid-thought. 

“Of course,” he’s calmed now, features softer and warm in the low, orangey light from the dipping sun; it filters in through the canopy, highlighting and accenting his cheeks and forehead and nose and... _and lips._

Because I can, because I want this to be my last memory of Phil, I lean forward. My hand finds his cheek, thumb brushing his skin, and it’s amazingly corporeal, amazingly _real_. _I am real, this is real_. I go slowly, eyes fixed on his lips, giving him time to move, to push me back. _It’s okay, even if he does reject me, it won’t hurt for long._

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t, and I brush the softest kiss to his lips before pulling away. His eyes are wide, blue and unblinking, and I wonder if I’ve done something wrong. Then his hand finds the back of my neck, pulling me closer - this kiss is deeper, _more_ , and I want to get lost in it. To drown in it. 

_“Don’t you trust me?” “Of course.”_

The words ring back in my ears - though they were spoken almost a minute ago - and I step back, breaking the kiss. The amazing, wonderful kiss. 

“Thank you,” I breathe the words out, and my fingers hover over my lips as if they can trap the feeling, burn it into the skin so I can feel exactly that, _only_ that until- “I have to go, but wait in the cave, okay?” He’s just grinning at me, and my cheeks tug up in a small smile. _Thank you._

I spin before he can pull me back - because _god_ he could pull me back, and I might never want to leave - and do my best to keep my pace steady as I walk back to my other self. For a moment, I debate whether to rejoin him now or wait until I’ve cleared my mind of what just happened.

 _I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that._ With a sigh, I slip back into myself, preparing for the onslaught.

 **What’d he want.** Not a question, and he stabs at his steak - we’re fed well, here - though he doesn’t lift the bite to his mouth.

 _He wanted to know...about, uh, ‘after’._ I can hear the hesitation in my words, the way my guilt slips in and twines with them. I can also feel his smugness, and the way we smirk down at the plate.

 **And?** He wants me to suffer, wants me to bring the suffering on myself. It wouldn’t be the first time, but I want only to feel that moment of happiness. Instead, I’m pulled down by that lead weight of regret. 

Because I can, because I’ll be gone in a couple hours anyway, because he can’t hurt me anymore - not really, not permanently - I shove my thoughts at him. My memories. The kiss.

Our hand clenches until the metal edges of the fork’s handle dig into our palm, and it’s like watching a tsunami in our head: he’s trying his best to hold back the anger, the jealousy, the loathing - no, the _self-_ loathing - but it’s only growing and multiplying. 

_Go ahead._ My words aren’t spiteful, though. If it’ll make him feel better, if it’ll direct his anger at me instead of Phil, if it’ll keep Phil _safe_ , then I’ll take whatever he has to throw at me. And just like that, at my words, the entire thing dries up - every ounce of emotion the other me had been about to let loose just evaporates.

**You shouldn’t let him go.**


	11. “To die will be an awfully big adventure.”

**Other Dan POV**

I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Of course Phil kissed him. Of course Phil has _those_ feelings for him, I saw it from the beginning. Why would I think any different?

I stand from the table, my food mostly untouched except to be pushed around the plate. I’m suddenly feeling empty, though I doubt food can fix whatever this is. 

_I’m not letting him go, I’m just..._ I can hear the voice in my head, soft and uncertain, but I don’t bother to acknowledge it. He’ll be gone soon, off to the lab to steal a vial of the serum, the one that’ll free him. The one that’ll leave a devastated Phil, one who hates me, one who _deserves_ to hate me. Why I care, I refuse to say.

I make my way to my room, collapsing onto my bed. I don’t feel like sleeping, and I know the other me will just wake me up as soon as he leaves - he needs me to meet him there, after, for this to work - so I just lay there.

 _You can’t talk me out of this._ He’s petulant and childish now; it’s remarkable how well the doc has managed to truly separate the good and bad traits.

 **I’m not even gonna try,** I admit, because what could I say? I find myself wondering what Phil would do, or say. I barely even know the guy, but he seems nice. He seems like the kind of person who’d know what to say. 

_Good._ There’s a silence, a long one, and after a while, I poke at him to see if he’s still there. _Yeah, I am. I don’t have to leave just yet._ I wonder if I’ll miss him, if I’ll miss having someone else - because, truly, he is not the same as me - inside my head. Surely not. There’s another long silence, and I do my best to keep my thoughts to myself.

 _Why are you so quiet? You’re not trying to back out, are you? You’ll still help me? And Phil?_ I exhale slowly, staring up at the spaces between the wooden slats of the ceiling. 

**I’m not backing out. I’ll still help you, and Phil.** I don’t want to, I don’t want to see Phil’s face fall, to know that I had any part in it, but...this is what I want, right? No more annoying person in my head, making me _think_ about things, making me feel things I shouldn’t, making me soft and awkward and all the things the doc has deemed negative.

_Good._

I don’t notice him shifting at first, the ripples of excitement twined with that ever-present guilt. It’s starting to rub off on me. What will Phil think, if I let the other me go through with this? Even though it’s what he wants, and sort of what I want?

 _It’s time. Wait ten minutes, then head for the lab entrance._ I don’t get a chance to respond, because he’s gone. I probe at the tiny corner just to be sure. Somehow, I’m actually surprised to find it empty. I inhale slowly, then exhale.

 _Why the_ fuck _is this affecting me so much?_ I’m supposed to love the idea of being free, of never having to worry about keeping another mind in submission, and yet...something aches in my chest, like I’m not all there. Which is a fucking _stupid_ thing to think, because it’s not the first time I’ve let the other me wander, and I’ve never felt like that before.

Ultimately, I decide it’s just hunger - _really_ , I insist into my head, _just hunger_ , though there’s nobody there to convince but myself. Even then, the words fall flat. I head back to the food tent to grab an energy bar - I’ll have to eat on the way.

\------------------------------

**Dan POV**

The door is surrounded entirely by a clearing, so I know I have very little room for error - I have to get in after the scientists, then follow them back out, or I’ll be trapped. Either trapped behind the doors, or trapped in this living hell until we can try again.

Because they’d be able to see me, I edge along the treeline until I’m as close to the door as I can get. The rumbling of the ATV shakes me to my core - though that could just as easily be nerves - and I hold my breath until it’s shut off. I have a decent vantage point from behind this fern, so the moment the men’s backs are turned, I pad across the grassy area and to the now-opening door.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, afraid my breathing will give me away, but I manage to sneak in just as the door’s closing. I want to exhale, to be relieved, but this is only the first step - if I don’t time everything just right, I’ll be stuck, unable to open the door from inside.

Fortunately, the only layers of security expand outside the lab itself - the keypad-locked door is the innermost circle - and now that I’m past it, there’s very little in my way. Because it’s late, and these men are a security detail more than anything, I’m able to slip through the corridors without drawing any attention - if I understand correctly, all I’ll look like to the video surveillance feeds is a momentary distortion in the otherwise empty halls. I race through the corridors, counting under my breath - if it’s just a security detail, I should have a couple minutes to find the fridge with the serum, grab a needle, and make my way back to the doors.

I’ve been to the doc’s research lab on several occasions, though never without the other me. It’s strange to stand here, staring at a space I’ve seen before, but have the autonomy to move of my own accord. 

Before I can speculate on the strange semi-freedom for too long, I shake my head and scan the room. _Fridge, fridge, fridge- there._ It’s across the space, and I pull it open. The first set of bottles I know to be the ones that split me in the first place - split us? I’m not sure. But they aren’t what I need. The second and third shelves hold more bottles, both liquids inconveniently the same milky-white color, so I have to squint at the tiny labels on the side.

With a whine, I realize neither of the names makes any sense. _Why had I thought this would be simple?_ A part of me - a large part - had expected them to be a bit more obvious. A skull and crossbones would’ve been a nice addition. 

_Dextro…._ I stare at the word for the bottle from the third shelf, trying to be logical about it - logical, because the doc is _meticulously_ logical. Top shelf: step one of the whole experiment. Shelf two, step two, and the _final_ shelf - it would make sense. _Besides, not like I get many chances to get this right._ With a start, I realize I’ve completely lost track of time. 

My fist clenches around the bottle, confidence that I’ve grabbed the right one growing as I step back from the fridge and scan the lab for the drawer I know to contain fresh syringes. The sound of footsteps pricks at my ears, then - just barely audible - so I rush over and pull out one of the sealed packages before sprinting back down the corridor to wait for the men to return, to open the door again.

I swallow thickly as they round the corner, tucking myself tighter into the frame of the door nearest to the entrance. _Please, this is going so well, please don’t notice me._ The words echo in my head until I’m sure they’re echoing around the metal walls of the hall as well, and I hold my breath as the men pass.

When the door slides open with a mechanical groaning, I use the sound cover to step lightly behind the scientists and slip outside.

I don’t allow myself to breathe until I’m outside the edge of the clearing; once there, I take a single deep breath, then set to scanning the foliage for my other self. After a few tense moments of squinting into the darkness, I pick out a moving shape and scramble toward it, rejoining the other me in a rushed collision that leaves our head swimming.

_I did it._


	12. “To live would be an awfully big adventure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know the quote is from Hook, not the original book, but I have creative license to use it for the purpose of juxtaposition, also this is a fic not a law ;)

**Phil POV**

Waiting is absolutely _horrible_. I don’t have much of a way to tell time here - unfortunately, I didn’t think to grab my phone when I leapt out of a fourth-story window with a mysterious spirit guy - so I’ve been relying on my limited knowledge of how the sun works.

And since it went down _ages_ ago, I have no clue how long Dan’s been gone. How long until he comes to get me. _If he was even successful_. That scares me the most - what happens if he gets caught? I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force frightening images out of my mind. 

_He didn’t say how long it would take, maybe it’s not an instant thing._ I’ve been going back and forth on this since the sun fully set, stuck between convincing myself that everything is perfectly fine and deciding that _surely_ everything’s gone all wrong. _But what if something_ did _go wrong? And I was just sitting around here doing nothing?_

_What if Dan needs my help?_

I jump from where I’m sat on the mattress, already power-walking out of the cave and scrambling up the narrow path to the jungle proper. _I think...this way?_ The last time I’d found the door at the base of the mountain-volcano, it had taken a ridiculous amount of time, and it had been in _daylight_. _I hope this is right._

By the time a familiar clearing comes into view, I’m sweaty and gross and absolutely out of breath. At first, I wonder if I’m too late - I don’t see Dan anywhere, though I’m careful to stay out of the clearing itself. _But surely I’d notice if he was-_

My eye catches on something that looks distinctly _non_ -jungley, and I’m forcing my legs to keep moving toward it. _Come on muscles, just a bit farther._ I slide to a stop on the dirt, inhaling sharply when I recognize the form sprawled on the ground. _Dan._

I have to take...a _lot_ of breaks, but I’m finally stumbling into the cave with Dan cradled in my arms. He’s a lot heavier than he looked, pale and passed out on the floor of the jungle. I had actually collapsed next to him, afraid he was _dead_ , until I saw the faint rise and fall of his chest. I checked his pulse anyway, just to be sure. 

I check it again now, after I’ve managed to lay him down on the mattress: fast and light as a hummingbird, but there. _Oh my god._ I drop down beside him, muscles aching and exhaustion hitting me in a tidal wave that sends me under the moment my head hits the pillow.

\-------------------------

**Dan POV?**

The world floats in on a blur, materializing in shades of black and grey and pale white. My head pounds, which seems unrealistic for being...well, for not being alive. _Where...where is this?_ I honestly never believed in the afterlife, but I’m a bit shocked that it’s not more creative. _A cave, really?_

 **No - well, _yes_ , a cave, but it’s not the fucking afterlife, you idiot.** I inhale sharply, surprise spiraling out in tendrils. 

_It...didn’t work?_ There’s a pang in our chest, and I blow out a breath, turning into the soft pillow we’re resting on. 

Wait. 

_Did I just..._ I try it again, wiggling our fingers just slightly. When they actually move, I swear our heart stops in our chest. 

**Yeah. That.** I don’t miss the bitterness in his tone, and he lifts our hand up to our face, flexing and stretching as if the muscles are new and untested. As if _he’s_ the one who’s never been able to do this before.

I wrench control away, sitting up and stretching out until our legs are fully extended, feet resting on the stone floor. It’s cold, and the sensation travels up our spine and makes us shiver. 

_What...what happened?_ I fist the blanket on the bed, relishing the sheer _ability_. Then everything comes crashing back in, because _it didn’t work._

 **It didn’t work. I don’t know _what_ happened, clearly you fucked it up and got the wrong serum. **He moves a hand to the small pinprick of blood in the crook of our elbow, dried over, and brushes our thumb across it. When he pulls us away, I snap our hand back, gripping our arm tightly. 

It’s exhilarating. 

I jump - we jump - when the mattress shifts behind us, and the other me pulls us to our feet, spinning around and stepping back; our heart races in our chest, and I lift a hand to feel it, still fascinated that I _can_.

We exhale - which of us, I can’t say for sure - when we recognize the slowly shifting figure before us. _Phil_. His eyes are squeezed shut, hair plastered to his forehead in a sweaty mess, and we just _stare_ for a minute, until he’s blinking his own eyes open, absorbing the scene with slow awareness.

“Dan?” His voice is thick, and I step forward. We step forward. I think I do it. “Dan!” Suddenly he’s up from the bed, colliding with us and knocking us back a step. The other me catches our balance better than I could’ve - I’m so focused on the arms suddenly wrapped around us that I can’t do anything aside from return the gesture. 

“Phil,” I breathe his name, mouth an inch away from his shoulder, and it’s amazing that _I_ get to say that, that _I_ get to be the one making our lips move. 

“What happened? Are you okay? You didn’t come get me, and I found you collapsed on the ground and-” he breaks off, pulling back from us. His hands rest on our shoulders, brows scrunching and eyes flicking between ours as if searching for something. 

**He’s looking to see if it’s me he’s found on accident.** I inhale sharply - we both do - and I’m suddenly terrified.

“It’s me,” I do my best to sound reassuring, and Phil nods, though I can see there’s still a layer of wariness under his expression. “I promise,” _it’s not a lie_.

 **Wow, you’re great at this ‘truth’ thing, aren’t you?** We scoff, _aloud_ , and Phil squints at us in confusion.

“Are you, uhm, okay?” He’s taken a step away, pulling his arms back to his sides and twisting his lips. My own eyes widen, because _oh god, we’re both in control._ We’re both in control, but the other me hasn’t done a thing to make it obvious that we’re _both_ here. _Why haven’t you taken control?_

 **He wouldn’t want to see me, to know that I’m here.** I can feel the other me flexing in the back of our mind, expanding to take up more space than he ever allowed me but not actively reaching to push me aside. After a beat of silence, I refocus on my surroundings. Phil’s still staring, looking more cautious by the second, and I rush to fill the silence.

“It’s, uh, fine, I’m fine, just...things didn’t go the way I expected,” _not a lie_. Another scoff, but mercifully contained in our head this time. _Stop that,_ I shoot his way, suddenly feeling the weight of having to pretend he isn’t there like lead in our stomach.

“Oh, well...are you, uh, _free_ , then?” He sounds even less sure, but his eyes roam our body and gears are whirring in our head and there’s just _too much happening._

“Yes!” I finally spit out. _Definitely a lie._

 **Good luck with that one.** I can feel the smirk working its way to our lips, so I force it into a bright grin instead. 

“Okay,” Phil’s smile matches my own, though I get the sense his is more genuine. “So what do we do now?” He’s already moving on, blissfully unaware of this insane dilemma I’ve landed us in. 

_What do we do?_


	13. "They are, however, allowed to change, only it must be a complete change.”

**Phil POV**

I don’t know what’s going on, but I can _tell_ something’s wrong. 

At first, when I’d looked up to find him stood across from the mattress and staring at me, he looked exactly like himself. But then there’d been a split second where I was _sure_ he wasn’t him. When he was the other Dan.

Then the soft look had returned to his eyes, and I found myself doubting it. A strange shadow at the wrong time, a trick of the light. And he said he was free. And I trust him.

Don’t I?

 _Of course I do._ I chide my own brain, standing from the bed to go over our plan again. Dan’s gone back to the camp, where he’s going to grab some supplies - the journey back will take a bit longer than the journey here had - then we’ll just be waiting for the next boat that keeps the island and lab well-stocked. He said it should only be a couple days.

 _And then what?_ Do I take him back to London, would he live with me? I mean, of _course_ he would, but there are surely some tricky logistics involved in smuggling a person into a country where they’re entirely undocumented. Hell, there are a _lot_ of discussions about that, I _know_ the logistics are tricky.

But I need to focus on the present first. Dan should be back soon, then we can make a proper plan. For some reason, I get the idea that his plans aren’t nearly as fully-fleshed-out as he claims they are.

\-----------------------------

**Other Dan POV?**

_No, but we have to try again. I can’t..._ his voice grates in my head, louder than usual, and _whiny as fuck_.

 **Jesus christ, can’t you stop freaking out for _one damn minute_? ** It’s making my head hurt. _Our_ head, because whatever he did, he _royally_ fucked it up, and now we actually have to _share_. **You said there were two vials, right? Obviously you grabbed the wrong one. Just get the other one.**

We’re stood at the edge of the clearing, as close to the door as we can be - we’ve been squatting here for the last hour or so, just waiting for the opportunity for the other me to run back into the lab. It’ll be much riskier, but he’s an impatient little fuck and it’s nearly impossible to fight over control for a body - he’s relentless, now that he has some power. 

_That’s the plan,_ the tone is unmistakably snarky, and I wonder if I’m not rubbing off on him. I laugh, and it almost makes it past our lips before he clamps our mouth shut. 

A moment later, the mechanical whirring of the door sounds, and a group of men step out, leaving the perfect opportunity for the other me to separate, slip in unnoticed, and get what he needs. We wait until all their backs are turned, just as the door hits the top of its journey, then I gesture toward the entrance, signaling him to get a move on.

After a few tense moments, I exhale - the door’s started closing now, and I have to assume the other me’s already on his way in. Until our hand reaches up - not of my doing - and covers our mouth. Tears prick at our eyes, and it’s a battle just to get him to back down.

 **What the fuck, why didn’t you go?!** I’m tempted to shout it aloud, but I know that would only cause far more trouble than we’re already in. Than _he’s_ already put us in. I slide us back so we’re pressed flush up against the trunk of a tree, absolutely out of sight of the men in the clearing.

 _I...I can’t leave…I can’t leave our body..._ his voice has returned to its meek, quiet tone, but the words hold a weight I didn’t realize possible. When we slump heavily to the ground, I’m not sure which of us causes it.

**What the _fuck_ have you done?**

\--------------------------

**Dan POV?**

I want to sob. I want to break down completely. I don’t get the choice - I _do_ , but I can’t be bothered to fight when the other me picks us up and hauls us back to the cave, back to Phil.

 _What are we supposed to do?_ How am I supposed to be free now? I can’t even leave our _body_ anymore, how am I supposed to-

 **Fucking hell, stop whining.** His tone is sharp, the exact kind I’d expect to accompany a lance of hatred or anger or any other painful emotion he’d normally use to subdue me. But none comes, and I exhale into the air around us. _I_ exhale. It’s still such a strange concept, to have us both in control. 

_I just...how am I supposed to escape now, if I can’t even-_

**Why isn’t it _working_? ** He’s fully stopped, and we’re just standing in the middle of the jungle, afternoon sun casting rays into our eyes and making them water. Our eyebrows lift at my confusion, then he forces them to pull together as we frown. **Why can’t I-**

 _You can’t...you can’t hurt me?_ If a lightbulb could actually go off in our head, it would be right now. _Whatever I did…_

 **Fuck off.** I don’t - I _can’t_. Instead, I grab control, pushing our legs until we’re nearly sprinting across the ground; I _live_ inside those moments of air rushing past our face and into our lungs and out in great big _whooshes_. Before he can stop me, we’re at the edge of the beach, toes curling in the dry sand.

 _Please, can-_ then I laugh, out loud, because I don’t have to _ask_ \- I control our body just as much as he does, and there’s absolutely _nothing_ he can do about it. So I take long, bounding strides toward the water, only stumbling when the other me tugs at our legs. But it’s counterproductive - for him, anyway - because I just splash into the water, fully clothed, and submerge myself in the clear, salty waves.

When we breach the surface again, it’s not of my doing. 

**Jesus, you can’t just- you can’t just _kill us both_. ** I blink against the salt stinging our eyes, trying to comprehend what he thinks is going on. 

_I wasn’t-_ I try to send him my thoughts, my feelings, how exhilarating it was to rush into the water, how I just wanted to _float_ for a while - because I have the ability to let us just float - how _peaceful_ that would be. But he’s still raging back.

 **You weren’t? Is that what you call it? Throwing us into the ocean and staying down until our lungs were aching? And then _still not bringing us up_? ** I shake our head, confused.

 _No, I wasn’t, I just...I wanted...can’t you feel anything?_ We’re still now, more focused on our conversation than on our actions. Water drifts around us, tugging gently at our soaked clothes.

 **I...no, I _can’t_. You fucking...** he groans aloud, and I roll our eyes. **What were you doing? Why didn’t you come up for air?** I can feel the irritation, but only in the way I might hear it if he’d said it aloud - it’s clear, but only because he’s essentially ‘speaking’ with that tone. If I had to guess, I’d suspect he’s afraid, if he really thought I was trying to...well, do _that_ , but I don’t actually _feel_ it like I used to.

 _I just wanted to float, to be part of the ocean for a little, I would never..._ I can’t even bring myself to say the words, but I could never _kill_ him. I want to hate him, and I hate what we are, what he’s done to me, but _killing_ him? That would be…

 **What? Kill yourself? Except you would. You tried to, literally _yesterday_. ** I wince at his words, at how they sound, and wrap our arms around our stomach. 

_That’s not the same, that was me, not you. I wouldn’t..._ for a moment, I wonder what this means. We’re both stuck in the same body now - does that mean we aren’t separate anymore? Would the serum that ‘ _frees_ ’ me even work anymore?


	14. "You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it.”

**Phil POV**

Dan still hasn’t returned, and I can’t keep the worries at bay for long. _What if something happened, like last night?_ The sun has already sunk to touch the edge of the horizon, so I climb back up the side of the cliff and set my feet toward the campsite. _Maybe he just got hung up dealing with the other Dan._

The thought makes me stumble - what use would I be, if the other Dan’s involved? My skin prickles just thinking about having to stand up to him. _No, I could do it. For my Dan, I could do it._ I step forward with more confidence, marching toward the campsite with a single goal: rescue Dan, whatever the circumstances.

Fortunately, it’s not far to the edge of the main clearing, and I’m still able to cling desperately to that bravery as I situate myself behind a fern and scan the area. And scan. And _scan_.

After what feels like hours but is probably only a handful of minutes, larger groups start wandering toward the food tent - _surely I’ll see at least_ one _of the Dans now..._ I watch carefully, eyes drifting over the tops of heads for familiar chocolate curls. 

But another several minutes pass, and I _still_ haven’t seen either Dan. Frowning at the large leaf in front of me, I take a deep breath, then shuffle over so I can stand properly behind a tree to stretch my sore legs. They still haven’t quite recovered from last night’s adventure.

 _I wonder where on earth he could be?_ Concern bubbles up in my chest - would the other Dan have taken my Dan captive, dragged him off somewhere? I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking, I can really only navigate to three places on the island - _maybe_ four, if I count the beach. 

_The beach._ I _think_ that’s on the way back to the cave, if I remember correctly - at least I can check off the places I’m familiar with before venturing into unknown territory. _I really really hope he just got delayed getting back to the cave or something..._ every possible scenario of things going wrong plays on a loop in my head as I walk in the direction - I _think_ \- toward the beach.

\------------------------------

**Dan POV?**

“Dan?” The voice floats into our ears on a light breeze, almost inaudible, and it’s not until the other me turns our head that I realize the sound was real.

 **What’s he doing here?** His voice is gruff, and our arms cross, dragging against the the water. Our heart’s racing, too, though I think that might be because of me.

 _I don’t know, he’s supposed to be waiting for us back at the cave..._ we stare for a moment, then the other me’s pushing our body to move toward the shore, sand puffing up in clouds around our feet and swirling against our ankles.

 **Yeah, he’s great at waiting, isn’t he?** I let out a breath of laughter, short and sweet - his voice is so _fond_ , despite the sarcastic nature. 

_Careful, you might be catching feelings,_ I tease, only to trip over our feet as he tugs our leg sideways. Water splashes up into our face, though my arms manage to catch us before we go fully under, now that we’re closer to the shore. When we look up, Phil’s jogging toward the edge of the water, and our face flushes, embarrassment surely coloring our cheeks bright red.

 **Fucking hell, you’re such a klutz. And _shut up_.** I can feel an extra layer of warmth crawling up our neck, and I tug our lips into a smirk. My teasing confidence dries up, though, the moment our eyes land on Phil again - he’s stood where the water’s up to his ankles, frowning slightly.

Without warning, we’re suddenly waving him over, and I have to fight the urge to use our other hand to grab our arm and pull it back down to our side.

 _What on earth was that? Why would you do that?_ I bite our lip, heart racing and nerves prickling the tips of our fingers. We should’ve just gone back, like I’d planned, and met him out of the water. Headed back to the cave. Pretended to plan more. Tried to figure things out. Tried to hide- _oh god, what if he can tell? Why would you bring him over, he’s going to see us and just_ know _something!_

**If I hadn’t, you’d never have the courage to _do_ anything about these fucking feelings you keep shoving at me.** I don’t bother reminding him that, actually, I _can’t_ do that anymore, because our eyes are glued to Phil - Phil, who’s now pulling off his shirt and shorts and... _fucking hell._

 **Unusual of you to swear like that.** He quirks a brow, and I’m back to chewing at our lip. **It is a _very_ nice view, though.** Because I’m not sure what else to do, I move back so we’re drifting further out, into deeper water. Just to the point where our toes can touch the sand, but our shoulders still break the surface. 

Phil’s wading out, little waves splashing up his legs and making his thighs sparkle, and we swallow thickly. I’m not sure which of us does it, but we’re both dead silent, so I have no way of telling. I don’t think we blink until Phil’s as submerged as we are, only a couple feet away.

“What are you doing out here?” He ends the question with a chuckle, and our lips quirk in a half-smile. “I thought you’d gone missing, I was really worried!” I expect his tone to be soft, or maybe a little concerned, but it’s more light and playful. I wonder if there’s something about being in the ocean that makes everyone feel like they’re floating.

“Isn’t it obvious? Having a swim,” it’s dripping with sarcasm, and _certainly_ not my doing, but I do manage to clamp our mouth shut before the other me can get out any more snarky commentary. 

_Don’t be rude! He was worried._ I’m suddenly wishing I had the ability to shove him inside our head. Phil’s eyes widen across from us, but he doesn’t look bothered. He looks…

 **You’re welcome, it’s called _flirting_. ** The other me settles back, leaving our limbs loose and drifting with the current. 

“Fully clothed?” Phil smirks, his gaze drifting down to our shoulders, where they peek up from the top of the water, and further - to our chest, distorted but clearly covered under the surface. A fresh blush creeps up our cheeks, and I duck our head, shrugging. _Okay, you can talk, just...help?_

Instead of speaking, though, our hands find the drifting hem of our shirt, tugging it over our head with a strange, wet sound. Water drips into our eyes, loose curls now blocking part of our vision, and I’m terrified to meet Phil’s eyes. The other me, however, peeks up at him through our lashes. I’m not sure which of us is making our heart race, but surely the other me is too confident - I do my best to steady our breathing.

“Not for long,” words finally push up our throat, low and sensual, and I resist the urge to clamp a hand over our mouth. Then we’re brushing past Phil, heading back toward the shore with a soaked shirt clenched in our fist.


	15. "They unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time.”

**Other Dan POV?**

I am suddenly _exceptionally_ grateful that I now have to actively ‘talk’ in our head for the other me to know my emotions. Because I’m fucking _freaking out_ right now. If, at any point, I doubted this stupid crush on Phil, I certainly don’t now. Now it’s just a pain in the ass that I can’t get rid of. Much like the completely incompetent other part of me that’s sending our heart racing and making our breathing quick and shallow.

 **Stop that, seriously, I can’t focus with you making me nervous.** I frown now that we’re facing away from Phil, doing my best to keep us from shaking. 

_Why did you leave? How is this flirting?_ He sounds so... _innocent_ , it’s actually a little disgusting. I scoff, letting the light breeze and ocean noises cover the sound. Phil’s likely too far behind us to hear now, anyway.

 **I’m giving him a show.** I clamp our mouth shut, rolling our shoulders as they emerge further from the water. Our shorts hang heavily at our waist by the time we get to the sand, and I take slow, careful steps toward the rock I intend to lay our clothes out on. I also make a point of swaying our hips, though the other me rubs at the edge of our dripping shirt, clearly uncomfortable with this display. 

_Okay,_ is the only response I get, though, and our brows quirk up at my surprise before I focus on the task at hand. Our shirt ends up draped across a bit of the rock, then I slide our shorts slowly down our thighs. This time, when our heart rate picks up speed, I know it’s got a fair amount to do with me. 

When I turn - finally - back to Phil, I have to stifle a huff of laughter; even at a distance, I can see the moment of surprise, the way his mouth has dropped wide open before he slams it shut. I stride slowly forward, back into the safety of the water, and drift back over to him, holding his gaze the entire time. I’m fairly certain he hasn’t blinked. 

“Better?” I offer, but our voice is softer than I meant it to be. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

 **Do you want me to flirt or not?** I shoot in my head, harsher than I intend - my nerves are getting to me. 

_Sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’ll stay out of the way._ It’s a quiet promise, and he sounds suspiciously he had before all of this equal-control nonsense, but I try to focus on the outside world. On Phil. 

\--------------------------

**Phil POV**

I gulp at the sight wading back through the water toward me. If I ever decided I felt only protective over Dan, I suddenly feel a _hell_ of a lot more. Red-gold rays of sun bounce off his skin, still shimmering from where the water hadn’t dried during his brief foray onto the shore. To take of his clothes. 

To be fair, we’re both now equal - in just a pair of boxers, submerged below the surface - but somehow, the whole thing has turned far more sexual, far more _intimate_ than I expected it to.

“Better?” The word comes out on a breath, and it reminds me that I should probably also be breathing, and maybe blinking as well. I can’t quite form a response with him so close, so I just hum, nod. _Should I have nodded? Is that weird?_ I don’t get to think on it for long, because my eyes are distracted again by the smooth lines of his shoulders, his chest, even his waist - though it’s distorted by the rippling surface.

For a moment, I’m conflicted - what if he doesn’t feel this way? What if I’m misreading the whole situation? I’m terrified to do something wrong, especially with whatever he’s already had to endure; he never gave details, but it can’t have been good, with how shy and timid he’s always acted. I’d hate to hurt or scare him, even on accident.

 _But_ he _kissed_ me, _surely that has to mean something?_ Before I have the chance to hash out this dilemma in my head, a finger traces my collarbone, sending a shiver down my spine. Dan’s finger, I realize with a start, sucking in a breath. Then he’s drifted closer, almost unbearably close, because I have to watch the way his brown eyes flick up to meet mine, still hidden behind a few wayward strands of equally brown hair, and I don’t know if I can stand to just-

Everything stops.

He leans forward, his lips meet mine, and it’s nowhere near the soft, hesitant kiss from last night - it’s slow, at first, but confident and deep and warm. Acting purely on instinct, my hands drift up from my sides to slide around Dan’s waist, across his back, until I can pull him closer. Everywhere our skin touches, I swear there’s fire, though I know we’re in the middle of the ocean.

My actions must spur him on, because the fingers that had drifted up by my shoulder now find their way into my hair, wet and tangled, and he uses the grip to pull me closer. A tongue swipes across my lips, and I barely have to think before I’m granting him access. 

Water slicks our skin, and I can taste salt on his lips, and the whole thing is _amazing_ ; I can barely believe that it’s happening. _I’m on an island with a boy I just met, who_ flew _me here, and now we’re making out in the ocean._ A giggle escapes my throat before I can catch it, and Dan pulls back from the kiss.

“Hm?” His eyes are heavily lidded, lips puffed and pink to match the blush on his cheeks, and I forget what had even caused him to move away to begin with. I’m about to lean in, recapture his lips, when something flashes across his expression, and his eyes widen just the tiniest bit.

That feeling I don’t want to name swirls in my gut again - _something’s not right something’s not right something’s not right_ \- but I don’t know how to say it. _What if he’s just a little different, now that he’s free?_ I feel the corners of my lips tug down; they morph into a proper frown when Dan’s arms loosen, and he drifts a bit farther from me. 

“Is something wrong?” His tone has turned soft, worried, and he bites at his lip. 

My mouth opens and closes like a fish - fitting, since we’re in the ocean - but I can’t find the right words. The silence only seems to make things worse.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have- you didn’t- I mean, did you like it? Of course not, I shouldn’t have done it- no, I should’ve asked first, I’m so-” he’s rambling. Because there’s nothing else to do, nothing else I _want_ to do, I pull him flush against my chest with one of the smoothest motions I’ve ever done in my entire life and crush my lips to his.

He lets out a small squeak, muscles tense at the sudden move, then he all but melts, draping his arms loosely around my shoulders. There’s a moment where his lips tighten against mine, and I can tell he’s smiling, and it makes _me_ smile, and our teeth clack together awkwardly. We both try to focus on the kiss, but my cheeks hurt from holding back the smile.

When he breaks into laughter, I can’t help but do the same, though it ends with a content sigh when he rests his head on my shoulder.


	16. “I taught you to fight and to fly. What more could there be?”

**Other Dan POV?**

**__**_Are you sure we should’ve done that? What if he realizes you’re still in here?_ I’m trying my best to control our reactions, not to give anything away, but the other me has already gone off.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have- you didn’t- I mean, did you like it?” **Stop, you’re making it ten times worse, now he’ll _know_ something’s wrong!** But he won’t shut up. “Of course not, I shouldn’t have done it- no, I should’ve asked first, I’m so-”

I have half a second to curse Phil - curse the way he’s so much better at controlling the other me than I am - before I melt into his kiss, into his arms. And _fuck_ it’s really nice. I try to keep it back, but a grin forces its way to our lips; a moment later, our teeth bump Phil’s and I have to pull back, embarrassment flushing under our skin. 

**Why are you so fucking awkward?** I know it’s my fault, at least a little, but the other me is _just fucking ignoring me_. 

_This is nice._ He sighs, a breath escaping our lips as we rest on Phil’s shoulder. It’s...incredibly peaceful, though I won’t admit it to myself. Well, to the other me. I hate how confusing this, though I’m briefly glad for the fact that we actually have to talk to know each other's thoughts. 

When a shiver wracks our body, I lift my head - the sun’s just dipped below the horizon, sending us into a pale half-light, and the breeze off the ocean holds more of a bite than it had a minute ago. 

“Cold?” Phil’s voice, so close to our ear, and we shiver again. Not from the chill. The other me has us nodding, ducking our head, but I trail my fingers down Phil’s arm and take his hand in mine, dragging us toward the shore. I desperately hope he’s not putting together the pieces of our conflicting actions, both shy and brave simultaneously.

 **You need to either let me lead or take the lead yourself, or he’s going to start suspecting something,** I grumble into our head. I can’t decide if I’d rather he takes over or leaves me be, both are equally terrifying prospects. At least our objective seems to be mostly the same - _Phil_. 

Although... **what’s your endgame, here? Because I know what _I_ want.** I’m afraid to admit it to him, though, to admit the nerves that accompany my desires. So I keep my tone harsh. 

_I...I’m not...I don’t know, I guess._ It’s dripping with unease, the kind that reaches out to our fingers and leaves us gripping Phil’s hand a little tighter. We’re almost at the shore, Phil’s still not said a word, and the other me has begun fighting me for control of our steps. They slow just slightly. _Oh god, he’s going to see us basically naked, I don’t know if-_

 **You idiot, he’s already seen it. Literally like ten minutes ago. Stop being such a prude.** But he’s infecting me with his stupid self-consciousness, and warmth crawls up our neck to our cheeks as we reach the sand. I drop Phil’s hand, because he’s left his clothes elsewhere, and make my way over to the rock. Where our shirt and shorts are still very much soaked through, and cold to the touch.

“You can’t put those back on! You’ll freeze,” Phil’s voice, closer than I anticipated, and I whirl around to face him. He’s got his own shorts on already, tugging his shirt down over his dripping chest. Water soaks through in patches, making the fabric cling to his skin. I forget what we were discussing.

 _The clothes._ The other me seems to have stepped back, letting me take over, and I blink once to try to clear my head - _our_ head, whatever - then shrug.

“I mean, it’s not that far back to the cave,” I’m already turned back toward the clothes, grabbing the shirt to wring out. It probably won’t be too bad.

“What about the supplies, did you grab any more clothes?” I freeze, more in the muscles-refuse-to-move sense than the wow-it’s-chilly kind. 

_Shit! What are we supposed to say?_ My eyes widen, hands gripping the soaked shirt tight in our fists. It had been a ploy, a cover so the other me could get what he needed and...well, take care of things. 

“Was it the other Dan?” Phil’s voice drops low, and our heart rate skyrockets - his voice is so full of malice, I’m shocked it’s even the same person stood behind us. We turn around, just to be sure.

 **Fuck, did he figure it out somehow?** I think our lips are parted, as if either of us has _any_ clue what to say right now. How could we even begin to explain? Not to mention we’ve been lying this entire time. 

_Oh my god, he’s going to hate us. He’s going to hate us, and leave, and fuck I wish that stupid serum had just worked._ His nerves, paired with my own, are enough to set our limbs trembling, and our eyes drift down, waiting for him to rage and yell and abandon us. I’d normally be offended at this pathetic display, but I’m too in agreement - what if he _does_ just up and leave? What would we do?

“I’m _so_ sorry,” arms wrap around us before I can properly comprehend what’s happening, and our eyes fly wide in shock. “I’m so sorry he’s been horrible to you, and forced you to go through whatever awful things you had to go through. I’m so sorry he’s so terrible.”

 **Oh.** I set my jaw, clenching our teeth, and try to fight back the tears that threaten to spill from our eyes. It’s just _so fucking unfair_. Of course he’s all in love with the other me, and _detests_ every fiber of my being. Of fucking course.

Before I can register what’s happened, we’re shoving Phil back, brows scrunched and lips pressed into a hard line.

“He _isn’t_ , he’s _not_ awful, he’s just…” our eyes drift down again, to the sand, “he’s just different. Yeah, he’s been horrible, but that’s not _who he is_.” Our jaw would likely be on the ground right now, if the other me didn’t have such a strong hold on our actions. 

**Is that really-**

_Yes, shut up, okay?_ A flush crawls up our cheeks, though it could very well be from me as much as him. Phil’s dead silent across from us, lips parted just slightly, eyes wide. 

“He’s just...people can change,” the fight has died from our voice, and I can feel the looseness in our muscles that I’m coming to recognize means the other me has stepped back, given up his tight hold.

Phil doesn’t respond, but his features shift and soften. After a blink and a curt nod, he steps around us to grab our still-soaked shorts, wringing them out and sticking them out toward us. The past minute has been so utterly bizarre - hell, the whole _day_ has been unreal - and this strange offering feels like the cherry on top. A strangled giggle escapes our throat, and I slap a hand over my mouth. 

“Uh, thanks,” I let my hand drop, focusing on pulling on my wet shirt; after a struggle, I manage to get it over my head, then take the shorts from Phil and slip them on. The fabric sticks in odd spots, and I feel twice as cold with the clothes on than I did with them off. When I shiver, though, I’m not sure if it’s from the chill or my still-present nerves. 


	17. "You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming?"

**Dan POV?**

**What was that?** He’s moving us with slow steps across the sand, heading in the direction of the cave. **Why did you say all that to him?** I’m suddenly terrified I screwed everything up, and Phil will notice. Hell, maybe Phil’s _already_ noticed - I shouldn’t have said a word, not when it could out our secret.

 _Shut up and focus, you’re the one driving,_ I remind him when I notice we’ve drifted as we walked. Closer to Phil, closer to his warmth. I’m surprised to find he’s not made a point of moving further away - surely he hates us now. It’s clear how much he was ready to hate the other me.

I’m even more surprised when an arm reaches around our back, a hand rests at our waist, and we’re suddenly pulled flush against Phil’s side. I can’t stop the blush that rises to our cheeks, in spite of trying to let the other me have control for now. I need to cool down, strangely hot despite the brisk night air on our skin.

 _See? He doesn’t suspect anything._ I mean it to be reassuring, but the ensuing drop in our gut and sharp inhalation have me second-guessing my words. The other me peeks over at Phil, in a nervous, very unlike-him fashion: Phil’s watching us - not intently, just observing - with a small smile on his face. When we turn away, I can feel the tug in our cheek, the smile that matches Phil’s.

“It’s alright,” his voice sounds loud in the quiet space around us. “We can go get supplies tomorrow.” ‘ _We’._ Our heart stops beating.

\--------------------------

 _What the hell are we supposed to do?_ I hate that I have to ask again, that I’ve had to ask that same question so many times just today, but we have to do _something_. We can’t separate, there can’t be two of us, and Phil had said _we_ \- him included - would be going to get supplies. 

**Can you stop fucking whining for five seconds so I can _think_? ** I clench our jaw, though our mouth was already shut. We’re laying facing the stone wall of the cave on the mattress, Phil’s back to ours but so close we may as well be touching. It’s a very small bed.

The entire walk back had been a blur - I hadn’t even tried to take control of our body, I was too terrified. Terrified Phil would notice a sudden shift in our personalities, terrified that I’d have to face his wrath. That he’d hate me. Us. Though he sort of already does…

_What-_

**I said _stop_ , jesus fucking christ!** I frown.

 _Let me finish my question, then. What do you think Phil will do, once he finds out?_ It’s silly to pretend it’s anything but inevitable. Tomorrow, we’ll trek to the camp, he’ll see that there’s only one of us, and-

 **Wait. Hold on. _We_ are all going to the camp, yeah, but _Phil_ can’t exactly go _in_ with us,** I can hear the excitement laced through his tone, a slow but deep inhalation as our chest swells with the idea.

 _Right..._ I catch his meaning the moment before he says it, and I bury our head into our side of the pillow to stifle the grin pushing its way to our face.

**I don’t know if it’ll work, but we can-**

**__** _Yes! I’m sure it will, just...we have to pretend-_

**How did you-**

**__**_I don’t- wait, how did I know? I..._ our eyes go wide at the implication: if I can hear him again, sort of, like I used to…I push against the edge of our mind, intent on separating and slipping out of our body, but it’s like shoving against a glass wall - I can see the other side, but I can’t get there.

 **Great** , he blows out a breath, and our tense muscles - had that been my doing? - relax back into the form of the mattress. Phil shifts behind us, and the other me holds our breath.

“Dan?” We both hum, so it comes out as a single sound, but it echoes harmonically in our head. It’s strangely pleasant. “Are you still awake?” A shifting in the mattress, the touch of a hand on our shoulder. Our very bare shoulder - Phil had insisted that if we tried to sleep in those wet clothes, we’d die of hypothermia. His fingers are cold, though, and we shiver.

“Yeah,” the other me takes over; I can’t manage to speak, still so uncertain about _all_ of this - we’re in the _same bed as Phil_ , naked aside from our still-damp boxers (I hadn’t been willing to part with those), and we were just making out less than an hour ago. And on top of having to process all _that_ , I also have to somehow deal with the horrible situation that I and the other me have landed ourselves in - well, that _I’ve_ landed us in. _Why couldn’t it have just worked like it was supposed to?_

“Are you cold?” _No, not exactly…_

“A little,” it sounds so _timid_ , though I know I wasn’t the one to speak. When the hand disappears from our shoulder, my eyes widen. _Is he reaching for an extra blanket, or- oh._

Phil’s curled around us, chest flush up against our shoulder blades and an arm draped over our side. When we snuggle back into his warmth - though, really, we hadn’t been all that cold - I’m not sure which of us causes the movement. It’s becoming harder to tell, when our intents aren’t as clearly defined as they had been before.

“Is this okay?” His lips must be close to our ear, because his breath tickles, and I want to giggle. The other me stops us - **that wouldn’t be very coy, now would it?** \- so I swallow the sound and nod. The other me adds a hum for good measure, and a weight settles on the pillow just beside our head. 

The whole thing had taken only a few moments, but it suddenly feels like an _enormous_ stretch of time. And of trust. _Oh god, he trusts us - me - and we’re lying to him, and tomorrow-_

**Can you just live in the moment for like, five seconds? Enjoy this? Our- _your_ crush is literally spooning us right now. Just be fucking happy and thank me already, jesus.**

I clamp our mouth shut, though it was barely open to begin with, and close our eyes. It’s not a huge difference, given how dark the cave is, but it lets us focus on...well, everything else. 

Like the small circles Phil’s thumb is making on our upper arm, the soft rustling of hair at the back of our neck every time he exhales, the gentle pulse of his heart against our back. Or maybe it’s not his, or maybe it’s both of ours, beating in sync. I let the rhythm lull me to sleep.

\------------------------------

**Other Dan POV?**

The other me is already drifting off, I have to assume, based on how silent he’s gone in our head and how heavy our limbs become. But I can’t sleep, not with the anxiety of tomorrow still looming over us - surely we can pull this off? This horrible plan of faking that there are still two of us?

I still can’t figure out how he’d heard, how he’d known, when I hadn’t even said it. Feeling experimental, I prod at his mind, but the action feels off and empty, like I’m imagining it instead of actually doing it. And he doesn’t wake - or, if he’s not yet asleep, he doesn’t respond - so I have to assume that this is another bizarre side effect of whatever fucking drug the other me mistook for his suicide serum.

“This is okay?” Phil’s voice behind us startles me, but doesn’t seem to wake the other me. For half a second, I debate pretending to already be asleep and just ignoring his question. But something in my chest begs me not to, so I end up compromising with a soft hum. “Okay,” Phil’s almost whispering, and I’m possessed by the sudden urge to be _closer_.

Before I can think too hard about it - I am _so fucking sick_ of thinking - I turn in his arms so I’m facing him, then push him back so I can rest rest my head on his chest. A small, smug piece of me wants to chuckle at how the other me is missing this, this moment that would _surely_ send him reeling, but the vast majority of my mind is lost in the soft noise Phil makes as I drape my arm over him.

Then he settles, and I can feel my breathing slow, become more even, and I can’t even manage to stay awake long enough to enjoy feeling _content_ for the first time in...well, maybe _ever_.


	18. “Would you like an adventure now, or would like to have your tea first?”

**Dan POV?**

When I wake, it’s to warmth and softness and an unexpectedly squishy pillow under my head. 

**Not a pillow** , a groggy voice in my head corrects - in our head. Our eyes fly open, sucking a breath into our lungs. The other me doesn’t seem inclined to take control, then.

For a moment, I don’t dare move - Phil’s chest seems to have replaced our pillow while we slept, rising and falling gently under our cheek, and I wonder for a horribly terrifying moment if we’ve somehow invaded his space, if we’ve crossed some boundary-

I’m hit by a rush of memories, as clear as if they were my own, though the scenes and actions are unfamiliar. And then, suddenly and unexpectedly familiar. 

_Did we-_

**Yeah, well I did, but-**

**__** _But why could I see-_

We both go silent the moment Phil shifts under us, and a hand at our back pulls our chest flush to his. _Consensual, I guess_...I have the silly, floaty thought a moment before Phil’s eyes open; then he’s smiling down at us, gentle and a little sleepy. 

“Good morning,” it’s a strange sensation, his chest rumbling against our jaw as we arch our neck back to look up at him, but a comfortable one. Soothing. 

“Good morning,” we reply - which of us, I can’t say for sure - face breaking into a bright grin. I’m thoroughly convinced I’m still asleep. _Surely this can’t be real, it has to be a dream._

 **It’s real.** The other me sounds...awestruck, near as shocked as I am, and it’s reassuring - at least I’m not the only one.

Phil’s eyes drift toward the cave entrance, where sun has already begun streaming in; if I had to guess, I’d say it’s the reason we woke. 

“We should probably, uh, get supplies?” He says, making absolutely no move to get up. In fact, I could swear his arm goes a bit tighter around us. Before I realize it, the other me has hitched our leg up and over Phil’s. I swallow thickly.

“We _could…_ ” We’re speaking, and I can’t imagine how - I’m certainly speechless, both at our actions and the ensuing darkening of Phil’s gaze as he turns back to us. It reminds me of last night. His lip quirks up.

“Although, I suppose we don’t have any reason to rush?” If he’s trying to sound light about the situation, it’s not working. His tone has gone low, deep, and I am acutely aware of the way his eyes flick down to our lips. Ever the self-conscious one, I bite at our bottom lip.

For some reason, I expected Phil to be the one initiating the kiss this time; somehow, of all three of us, _I_ end up leaning forward, nerves squirming in our stomach and breath held in anticipation. I move slowly, sort of still expecting him to push me back - push us back - but he doesn’t, just stares at our lips until they’re too close to see. Then I forget to pay attention to what he looks like, because every inch of my skin is suddenly alive with how he _feels._

For a long moment, it’s just our lips moving gently against each other, soft and slow and maybe a little lazy - truly, we aren’t in a hurry. But then Phil’s tongue licks across our lower lip, and the nerves return like a hurricane. 

_Help, please? I don’t know how to...to do all this, not like-_

**Calm down, jesus, just relax and enjoy, alright? Quit it with the freaking out.** I exhale a breath against Phil’s lips, then pull myself back, letting the other me take over. He’s more experienced, or at least better at figuring this stuff out. I try to contain my worry, my fears of inadequacy, into a tiny ball and shove them away. I try very hard to do as he said, to just _enjoy_.

\----------------------------------

**Other Dan POV?**

Breathtaking. Fucking _breathtaking_. 

There’s literally no other way to describe what this is like, pressed against Phil with basically nothing between us, lips moving together like they were designed to fit each other perfectly, so warm that I shouldn’t be comfortable but so _comfortable_ that it doesn’t even matter. I could be dripping sweat and it would be _hot_.

 _Well, wouldn’t that mean it_ is _hot?_ The other me chimes in, and I’m once again desperately wishing for that brief reprieve we had from knowing each others’ thoughts. If my cheeks weren’t already flushed from Phil, they’d definitely be going red now.

 **Fucking hell, just shut up.** I make an effort to sound malicious, but Phil picks that exact moment to slide a hand farther down our back, just resting at the waistband of our pants. Our heart skips a beat, and the words in my head come out on a gasp - a gasp I very much echo out loud, against Phil’s lips.

“‘S okay?” He asks, pulling back just far enough to speak against our mouth. “Don’t want to push you,” his tone is concerned enough to make me open our eyes, flicking between his for a moment - his brows have scrunched, and he’s watching us carefully. I mean to ignore his question, make some flirty gesture back to _show_ how okay it is, but I’m cut off when the other me takes control back for a moment.

“More than okay,” he breathes through our lips, dipping his head just enough to peek up through our lashes, a coy-as-fuck move if I ever saw one. I have to contain the unexpected surge of pride to a light feeling in our stomach, trying to keep the mood...well, trying to _keep the mood_.

 **That was hot, nicely done.** I don’t know where his confidence or sensual intuition came from, given how he’s literally, well, _him_ , but I have no room for complaint when Phil leans his head back toward us, crashing our lips together and dragging his opposite hand down our side slowly. There’s a moan in the back of our throat, one I _know_ didn’t come from me.

A part of me wants to wrench back control, but my style has always been dominating, flirty and sexual but controlled - demanding, even. And, based on the moment Phil twists and grinds his hips into ours, I get the idea that he might be enjoying this pliant, moaning mess right now. And _fuck_ if I’m not enjoying the way he feels. Unlike the other me, I’m actually capable of just _enjoying_.

Until, of course, our stomach growls and absolutely _shatters_ the fucking moment.

Phil giggles and pulls back, and the other me whines - honestly, actually _whines_ \- at the loss. I’d roll our eyes if I didn’t feel a bit like whining too. I imagine the other me got the message of my disdain at our reaction loud and clear, though.

“Maybe we should get up? Get some food, head over to the camp?” Phil suggests, a grin curling his lips. **Look, clearly he thinks that whining was silly, maybe don’t go so over the top next time?** I’m tempted to shake our head, but I have to be careful, we can’t slip up.

“Right,” the other me pushes the word out, but it’s tight and a little squeaky. I hope Phil will think it’s just residual sexual tension or something, that he won’t look into it too far.

 _Sorry, I just sort of went with my instinct? That was too much, wasn’t it?_ While I admire his desperation to make things perfect, we have other things to focus on.

 **Look, just...** again, I have to fight back the urge to take control, to rub a hand across our face in exasperation. We exhale heavily, though, and I’m afraid it’s my fault. Before Phil can ask, or think too hard, I crawl over him, using our position to fully straddle him to get to the other side of the mattress. 

The moment our hips are aligned, just for that brief second, I grind down into him, smirking at the way his eyes go wide, pupils dilated, and he sucks in a breath. 

**There, that should distract him.** I do my best to ignore exactly how quick the shift in our personalities had been - it was something sexual, surely he won’t be paying all that close attention. **Now can we please focus? We have to make sure we play this _exactly_ right. **

The other me nods, a movement probably made indiscernible as we tug our dry but stiff shirt over our head. Surely, _surely_ , we can pull this off.


	19. “Oh, the cleverness of me!”

**Phil POV**

I almost feel _bad_ that I haven’t said anything. _Almost_. I mean, he’s the one who kept it a secret to begin with. Not that it gives me a free pass, I guess - it’s pretty clear he’s on edge.

Dan’s told me to wait outside the campsite, where I’ve laid out a large blanket for him to pile various supplies on. Once it’s full, we’ll head back to the cave to wait for the boat. He thinks it should be here tomorrow afternoon.

So here I’m sat, mindlessly rearranging a few of the items he’s brought back: some clothes, thankfully - I’m a bit sick of wearing the same thing - and a few water bottles he smuggled out under his shirt. 

Or, rather, ‘the other Dan’ smuggled out. I stifle a chuckle, clamping a hand over my mouth - I’m still close enough that anyone who wanders to the edge of the camp would definitely hear. Of course, at that exact moment, Dan comes stomping through the undergrowth with a scowl on his face. He slings a backpack from his back and it crashes to the ground; energy bars and a few more bottles of water tumble out. I do my best to press my lips into a tight line before looking up.

“Here,” he growls, eyes dark and hard. It’s taking a _massive_ amount of effort not to break my hopefully-convincing neutral stare while I wait for him to leave again; he’s just trying _so hard_ to look the part of his other self - well, I suppose he _is_ his other self.

After Dan’s outburst on the beach, it had taken me about thirty seconds to realize that whatever he’d tried to do to separate him from his other self hadn’t worked. At first, I thought it was just a return-to-the-status-quo kind of thing, but I quickly decided that couldn’t be the case: Dan is _my_ Dan, and also the _other_ Dan - it seems they both have control now.

I’m not mad - I’m a little sad he, or _they_ , didn’t feel like they could trust me, but I _had_ just ranted about how horrible the other Dan was the moment before my Dan shouted at me. And it had to be my Dan, though I’d thought it would be out of character for him to get that angry. But his words had come from a place of caring and seeing the best in someone, and I’m still convinced the other Dan wouldn’t have said things like that about himself. 

As I run more circles in my head, thinking about how strange this is - not only for me, but for both Dans as well - Dan reappears, carrying a pile of blankets. His steps are much softer this time, head tilted down and refusing to meet my eyes. It’s funny how they think they have to act, how they think they _actually_ act when they’re themselves. 

This comically meek version of Dan, meant to portray my Dan, sets the blankets gently on the large unfolded one.

“Is here okay?” He peeks up, still stooped over with hands ready to grab the pile and move it elsewhere if I say the word. I tilt my head, licking my lips to contain the laughter - even when he’d been only himself, my Dan was _never_ quite like this. It’s like someone took my Dan and made a caricature of him, then brought it to life. 

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” _you’re perfect,_ I don’t say, because that would be sappy and might scare them both - how am I supposed to show them that it’s alright, that I’m not mad, that they are who they are and that I may actually be in love with them both?

 _Oh god._ The L-word rolls around in my head, setting my heart racing. _Love?_ My eyes must have gone wide, because Dan’s widen across from me.

“Are you sure? I can move-”

“Dan,” I smile gently, trying to calm my racing heart, and his features relax, “really, it’s good. Is that all we need?” His gaze drops to the pile - food, water, warmth, and clothes. I watch him check mental boxes, eyes flicking over each item. His lips move silently, like he’s counting. 

“I think we’re set,” he nods, “but I, uh-” he breaks off, twisting his lips. “The other Dan,” he actually shifts on his feet, discomfort a little too obvious now that I’m watching for it, “I sent him to get us some proper breakfast, I’ll go, uhm, check on him?” He keeps glancing at me, then away, like he can’t manage to hold my gaze for long. I don’t comment on the unlikely idea of _him_ commanding his other self to do anything, and he doesn’t seem to notice the slip.

“That sounds great!” I’ll let him play his game a little longer, if that’s what he wants. I said it this morning, and I fully meant it - I don’t want to push him. Either of them. If they feel like they need to keep it a secret, then I won’t force it. That’s their decision. But I still hope they trust me enough - or at least, my Dan trusts me enough - to tell me soon. 

Dan disappears, off to pretend to find his other self. A few minutes later, he’s returned carrying two plates heaped full of steaming food - eggs, pancakes, waffles, bacon. My mouth is actually watering, desperate for anything that doesn’t come in conveniently-packaged bar form.

“So, uhm, he- the other me, I mean, suggested maybe we could sort of do a picnic?” My eyebrows lift at the thought. “He knows- uh, told me about a place, by a river, that he likes to go? It’s pretty quiet, but we can always just eat here, or somewhere else, if you-”

“That sounds great,” I say, because it does. Dan frowns at his plates as I gather up the blanket, which isn’t really all that heavy, and sling it over my shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” I smile at him, and his shoulders relax a bit. _He could use a massage, I bet._ I try not to think too hard about how enjoyable that would be, for me as much as him.

This morning - and last night - had been unexpectedly amazing. Unexpected because, well, I had thought I was only dealing with _my_ Dan. But with both of them running things, Dan had become...more forward, to say the least - or maybe it had just fully been the other Dan. But if they both have control, then I have to believe my Dan could’ve stopped if he’d wanted to. And they really _really_ hadn’t stopped much at all.

And it had been _amazing_. Suddenly, ‘amazing’ doesn’t feel like a strong enough word to describe how it had felt being pressed so close to Dan, lips to lips, skin to skin, to hold him as he fell asleep and to wake up to his cheek resting on my chest. To slide my hands across his back, and-

“Okay, he said he, uh, usually sits here,” Dan’s voice interrupts my thoughts, and I can feel warmth creeping up my cheeks. I let my eyes wander as I head toward the indicated flat stone, taking in the quiet burble of the river that runs past us and into the forest. We’re in a clearing, where the water is shallow but stretches several meters out to the other bank, and I have to leap across a small stream to get to my destination.

And, because I’m the clumsiest person on the entire planet, my foot catches on the edge of a rock and I stumble back into the stream. At the very least, I manage to toss the bundle of supplies onto the dry ground beside Dan, but my ass is far less lucky and lands in the water with a smack.

“Oh my god, Phil, are you-” he cuts off, interrupted by his own chuckle. A hand flies up over his mouth, but he’s soon doubled over, laughing more than I think I’ve ever seen him do.

Then _I’m_ laughing, because I’m sort of soaked but I’m not hurt, and that was exactly the kind of hilarious stupid thing that would happen to me. 

“I’m- I’m fine,” I manage between gulps of air and laughter, pushing myself up to climb out of the stream. Water drips from my shorts and pools at my feet, and I shake my hands off to try to get them a bit drier. “My butt will be sore for a while,” I concede, rubbing it and grimacing, “but I’ll survive.” 

Apparently, this is the funniest thing I could’ve said, because Dan’s nearly on the ground now, almost not even making a sound as he loses himself in the laughter. And I can’t bear to say anything else, or interrupt him, because he looks so _happy_. And not just the shadow of happiness he had before, when it was that hopeful kind of melancholy, a spark in his eye - _like life could be better, maybe, but it wasn’t yet_. 

This is complete, unrestrained happiness. 

I slip my shorts off, doing my best to wring them out, then lay them on the rock to dry. My shirt seems to have survived, aside from a few splash marks near the hem, so I leave it and my boxers on. Not much to do about those, and I don’t think Dan’s quite at the point where he’d be comfortable enough to fancy a skinny dipping session. _But who knows - the other Dan might talk him into it._ The thought makes my skin tingle.

By the time I’ve turned back around - _I think I deserve some waffles for my troubles_ \- Dan’s gone silent. I just catch sight of him as he clamps his mouth shut, but his eyes stay wide. _Right, no skinny dipping anytime soon_. I chuckle, then walk over to sit across from where he’s sat already settled on the rock.

“Which one’s mine?” I point at the plates between us, though they look to be filled with mostly the same food. Dan’s lips gape open and closed like a fish, then he blinks hard.

“Right, uh, whichever you want, it doesn’t matter,” he fixes his expression into a bright smile, so I mirror it and grab the one to my right. 


	20. "You mean more to me than anything in this whole world!”

**Dan POV?**

The other me pushes a bright grin to our face the moment Phil picks his plate - there’s maybe three or four more slices of bacon on our plate, and we reach for it greedily. We’ve been basically starving most of the morning. 

Before I can stop myself, I let out a groan - I don’t mean to, but it’s been a while since we had bacon, and it sort of melts on our tongue. The other me slaps a hand over our mouth.

 **Wow, you’re just _asking for it_ , aren’t you?** I can hear the laughter in his tone, less cynical than I expected it to be. But then Phil’s coughing, and we look up to find his eyes wide across from us. He swallows whatever he’d been chewing, then licks his lips.

 _Asking for it?_ I would shake our head, but I don’t know if that’s the right reaction.

“Are you alright?” I say instead, because that’s a normal thing I would do. _That’s what I would do, right?_ I’m having a harder and harder time figuring out how to act like, well, _myself_. I hope Phil can’t tell.

“I’m, uhm,” he clears his throat, “I’m good,” he nods, then picks his plate up and sets it on his lap to dig in. _He must really be enjoying it, though I guess it’s been a while since he had proper food._ The other me laughs aloud, then tries to turn it into a sort of cough, and I want to frown. _What’s funny?_

But I don’t get an answer, just a vague sense of humor in our head, and Phil said he’s fine, so I pick up our fork and stab at the eggs. They’re a little dry, but still mostly warm, and it’s just really damn nice to eat something other than the energy bars Phil and I have been munching on for the past twenty-four hours.

 **Yeah, savor it, we’ll be on a ship for a few days with none of these luxuries,** the other me kindly reminds me, and I do actually grimace this time. Fortunately, Phil seems very focused on shoveling a bite of waffle into his mouth, so he doesn’t notice.

We eat in silence, and I do my best to keep our attention on the slowly cooling food in front of us. But apparently, I’m doing a pretty shit job of it, as there’s a resigned sigh in our head before I can feel control being wrenched away. 

**Seriously, you’re impossible.** The other me sticks a slightly-too-large bite of pancake in our mouth, at which point I finally realize I’ve just sort of been spacing out. 

_Sorry_. I leave him to go through the motions of eating while I stare absently at our plate. My mind just feels... _disconnected_ all of a sudden, for no real reason. _Can you, like, pinch us or something? Or poke at me? Does that work again, now that we can sort of hear each others’ thoughts, like before?_

**Tried it, didn’t work.** Instead, he bites our tongue, something more subtle than actually pinching our arm. I try to focus on the sting, the left-over throb. It works for a few seconds, then I’m gone again. It’s odd, because I can _feel_ that I’m not really paying much attention, but I don’t know how to fix it.

Phil looks up from his plate, says something that reaches our ears but not my mind, then stands up. I feel our arms moving, handing over our now-empty plate, though I don’t quite recall eating the rest of the food. _This would’ve been a much nicer state to be in before._ I don’t specify before _when_ , but the other me prickles with understanding.

Then we’re standing as well, walking behind Phil. I just drift there, noticing but not really absorbing. I feel a bit like a leaf floating on a fast-moving river. There, absolutely there, but not affected by anything around me. _Maybe the serum is finally-_

Without warning, I feel a pressure under our hands, hard and fast and rough, and our heart rate spikes. It’s enough that I make us blink, that I focus for a moment. To find Phil’s no longer stood in front of us, but splashing in the water below us. A few cold drops land on our feet.

“ _Dan!_ ” He shouts, but it’s full of laughter; I realize belatedly that we’ve pushed him into the deep well of water right at the edge of the river, and he’s grinning up at us as he keeps himself afloat. A smirk touches our cheeks, but I can feel the heat behind it, the warmth crawling up our skin.

It’s sharply contrasted, then, by a wave of cool water washing over our shins, and I gasp, moving us back a step.

“Oh, you’re-” the other me starts, but I take over before he can finish, “you are _asking_ for it!” A moment later, I’ve pulled our shirt over our head and take a few fast steps before launching into the water beside him. At the last second, the other me pulls our knees up, and we send our own wave of water at Phil as we land.

Then we’re fully under the water, eyes squeezed shut and blowing tiny bubbles from our nose. They tickle as they creep up across our skin. There’s a moment, submerged in the water, where I feel exactly as light and carefree as I had in the ocean, and a piece of me - a very insistent piece - wants to hold onto that, to stay exactly where we are until we can’t stay any longer. But then I remember the other me, his fear that I’d been trying to drown us. 

_I won’t_. I promise, because this isn’t my life to control. It’s _ours_ , whatever that means. I have to deal with that.

\----------------------------

**Phil POV**

A flirty, playful Dan is one I could certainly get used to.

Treading water isn’t nearly as tiring as I’d expected, and I can taste a bit of salt on my tongue - it must be close enough to the ocean to be a mix of freshwater and saltwater. I look up to find Dan grinning down at me, looking just a _bit_ too dry, so I splash as hard as I can manage. Without any leverage, the water only reaches up to his knees.

“Oh, you’re- you are _asking_ for it!” He’s laughing too, though, eyes bright and wide, then he’s cannonballing in beside me. I don’t bother being annoyed when I’m hit square in the face with a wave of water from his landing, too busy wiping at my eyes and trying to keep the dripping water from getting into my mouth. It’s not very easy, as my lips keep parting in a bright smile and giggles keep bubbling up in my chest.

For a moment, Dan stays under water, and I watch as the bubbles float up and pop on the surface. Now that the ripples have subsided a bit, I can see him still hugging his knees, not quite sinking any longer but not floating back up yet. Then, suddenly, he uncurls himself and lets himself follow the bubbles of air to the surface.

When he emerges, inhaling a deep breath and wiping water from his face, I’m almost tempted to splash him again. _It only seems fair, we have to be even!_ But his eyes go wide when they open, meeting my gaze, and he’s just giving me a small, soft smile. Drops of water trickle down his cheeks, neck, shoulders, and some rest on his eyelashes. My heart clenches in my chest - he should not be allowed to be this pretty.

I tell him so.

Then I swim closer, enough that I can wrap an arm around his back and pull him against my chest. I’m suddenly regretting not having taken off my shirt earlier - it’s now an annoying barrier between us. Dan’s already flushed bright red at my comment, and he’s staring very intently at my shoulder.

“I’m not,” he finally speaks, quiet and unsure. “You are, though,” now he looks up, tries to hold my gaze. I’ll admit, I’m the first to break, but I’m grinning even as I’m turning away. 

It’s a warm, silly moment where neither of us knows quite what to say, pressed against each other but still not sure how to be _close_ , to be _open._ _Not sure how to be fully honest._

“You really are,” I counter, after a moment of silence. “Every single part of you,” I don’t know if he’ll understand, or if he even suspects that I know, but I desperately hope he does. _Whatever my feelings are, they’re for both of you._ I think life works out the way it does for a reason, but I still feel awful about the way I spoke about the other Dan before. 

Dan doesn’t look up for a moment, then he’s got a hand at the back of my neck and is pulling me to him, and our lips crash together in a mix of warmth and not-quite-saltwater, and my heart just about jumps out of my chest.


	21. “All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.”

**Other Dan POV?**

I have no idea what’s running through Phil’s head. Apparently, the other me is equally clueless - or afraid, we’re both a bit terrified - as he’s soon reaching up to pull Phil in for a kiss. I’d almost be shocked, except I saw it coming.

Okay, I’m still a little shocked.

I mean, really, one minute he’s so out of it that we may as well be back to the way things were before. Then he’s so _present_ that he’s cutting me off mid-sentence to throw us into the water beside Phil. Then he’s-

 _Could you stop thinking for, I don’t know, five seconds and maybe just enjoy this?_ I almost unintentionally interrupt our kiss with a huff of laughter - behind the mocking, there’s still a hint of self-consciousness and unsurety - but he’s right. I’m thinking far too much. 

So I focus on the way Phil’s lips slide against ours, soft and hot and a little salty from the brackish water. I focus on the way the other me has moved our hand up into Phil’s wet, tangled hair, tugging lightly. **Fuck, I think we’d like that.** I don’t have to say it, I’m sure the other me can tell, but the thought of Phil pulling at our hair is intoxicating. 

But Phil doesn’t do that; I can’t say I care, because his hands have found our hips, and he’s pulling us as close as our legs will allow, what with trying to stay above water. For a moment, I almost want to give into the other me’s earlier urge to just float under the surface for a while. It couldn’t be for long, but we’d have completely unrestrained access-

Then Phil pulls away, and I let out some kind of horribly embarrassing breathy noise at the loss. It’s only once he’s halfway out of the water that I realize he’s dragged me to the edge of the river, and I’m a little confused, so the other me has to climb out of the water for us.

 _If you keep daydreaming, you’ll miss it_. He sounds uncharacteristically sage in our head, especially for someone who’d literally been dissociating a few minutes ago. Had it only been a few minutes ago? Or longer? I’m not even sure.

We’re barely out of the river when Phil’s on us again - we haven’t even stood up, and he’s straddling our hips and laying us gently back on the stone; I expect it to feel hard and uncomfortable, but it’s warm from the sun and we don’t have to constantly move to stay afloat, so it’ll do.

I want to close our eyes as Phil leans toward us, but the other me stops us.

 _I want to see this._ Along with the words come a tug in our stomach, a low, excited thrum that sets our skin on fire. We watch as he leans lower, shifting his hips so he’s pressed even harder against us. We wait until his lips are so close that they’ll be on ours a second later - only then do our eyes drift shut.

But the pressure never comes - not to our lips, at least. Our nerves have us balanced on the edge, full of anticipation, and I’m about to let out a disappointed breath, about to start wondering where he’s gone, about to say something, when there’s a soft nip at our neck. Instead of a breath, the other me makes us moan - I’d chastise him, except I may have had just as much to do with it.

When our hips roll up into Phil’s, though, I allow myself to be properly embarrassed.

 **Why the fuck did you do that? Do we apparently have zero control over our body, now?** I try to sound angry, though I’m not sure he was the only one behind the action. But it’s easier to blame it on the other me.

 _I’m enjoying myself, you should try it._ The other me has gotten _snarky_ , and I wonder if I really am rubbing off on him. _But, god, Phil’s lips-_

As soon as the words are out in our head, Phil’s moving lower, trailing kisses down and across our collarbones. He stops, biting gently at the skin there and swiping his tongue over the spot a second later. 

**His fucking _tongue_ ,** I manage to counter, but words evaporate as Phil continues on. He’s started dragging his fingers down our side as well; each time he pauses, his fingers grip us tightly, holding us still. It’s not til he’s reached the skin at our hips that I realize we’ve been squirming under him. I don’t even have the mental clarity to be embarrassed any longer.

“ _Phil_ ,” we whisper his name - I think we both do it - when he leaves light kisses along the hem of our soaked shorts. His tongue dips below the fabric, sending a shiver up our spine, and his fingers pause at our hips. Our eyes must be closed, because we have to open them when his warm breath against our skin suddenly disappears.

“I want...are you okay? With this? I don’t want to-” he breaks off, twisting his lips. He looks like he’s about to rest his chin on our stomach. 

**__**_I kind of really fucking do?_ _But..._ the other me sounds timid in our head, and I can feel the waves of uncertainty, anxiety, discomfort rolling off him. I wish I could say I didn’t feel the same.

 **Maybe just...not yet?** I agree without agreeing, but I’m sure he already knows. We both _really fucking want_ more, but…

“Not yet?” I say for us both, the words hovering in the air. Our stomach tightens, nerves setting us on edge in the worst possible way. **Oh god, what if he doesn’t-**

“Okay,” he gives us the softest smile, with absolutely no reservation. No annoyance. No impatience or frustration or whatever I’d - _we’d_ \- been afraid of. Instead, his breath tickles our skin again, and he presses gentle kisses all the way back up to our lips. It takes us until he gets there to feel a little more settled.

“Are you, uhm, sure?” The other me asks the moment before our lips meet - still worried, always worried. At least he’s not too shy to ask. I wish I could get past my own false self-confidence enough for that. 

“Of course,” he pulls back, just enough that we’re now staring into his deep-ocean-blue eyes. “I told you, I don’t want to push you. I’m more than happy with whatever you want.” It’s stupid, but I’m glad to hear the reassurance.

“Whatever we want,” the other me mumbles, and I can feel he’s a little awestruck by the idea of consent. Phil just breaks into a bright grin, eyes wide and lit up. Then he’s kissing our nose, our cheeks, our forehead, our jaw, and all the uneasiness that had built up in our gut dissolves into giggles. 

“Quit that,” I chuckle at him, snaking a hand around to the back of his head and using my grip on his hair to stop him, to give me a moment to breathe before bringing him back in for a kiss. I can’t stop smiling, though, and neither can he, so our lips are tight and it’s a brief and chaste event, but I pull back full of lightness and a bit dizzy.

 _Happiness is...really fucking great_ , the other me chimes in, sounding almost as dazed as I feel. We drop our head back to the stone, letting our hand rest on Phil’s shoulder. He must find a piece of hair laying across our forehead out of place, because he brushes it back before trailing his fingers down the side of our cheek, down our jaw; he cups his hand there as he runs his thumb across our bottom lip.

 **It really fucking is, isn’t it?** I wish, for a moment, that I could take a picture of this and stick it in my back pocket for whenever I feel shitty. Although, I have to wonder, after all this - after we escape - is that something I’d ever even need? There’s a spike of fear in my heart then, like a knife formed of all my doubts, all the doubts of the other me: what happens after? What if-

 _Don’t. Please?_ The tone in his voice is so soft, I’d miss it if it weren’t dead quiet around us. Phil’s fingers have shifted to tracing the outline of our collarbone, light as a feather and twice as lovely. Even my own thoughts are disgustingly sappy, but I sort of love it. 

**I just don’t want this to end.** I let my uneasiness drift toward him in our head - though I’m not sure if he even needs me to consciously show it - hoping to emphasize the knot of fear in our stomach that I can’t seem to untangle all of a sudden. He blinks our eyes slowly, watching Phil’s every shift in expression, every movement we can see from where he has us pinned. 

_For once, I don’t either._ The heavy meaning behind his words mixes oddly with the lightness, leaving us with a strange sort of balance - the best I can think to compare is a weight on our chest, but a comfortable one. Much like the man currently drawing lines across our skin with his fingertips.

“Whatever happens,” our heart races at Phil’s words, at the way his gaze shifts to lock eyes with us. Apparently, we aren’t the only ones who’ve been stuck inside our head. He takes a breath, like he’s trying to reset his thoughts. “Tomorrow, we’ll get out of here,” his voice holds such hope. “And I’m not sure what happens after that, but we’ll figure it out. Together.”

I nod for us, as the other me is about on the verge of tears and I _really_ don’t want to start crying right now. Phil’s hand finds mine on his shoulder, and he twines our fingers together and squeezes. It’s a silly, meaningless gesture - I _want_ it to be meaningless - but it’s a fucking wrecking ball to the wall I’d hastily constructed to keep our emotions in control, and I can already feel our eyes going misty.

 **I swear to fucking god, get it together!** I hate that he can’t, that he almost seems _reluctant_ to get control of himself. I hate that I sort of feel like crying, too. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” Phil’s hand leaves mine to brush away one of the escaped tears, and I squeeze our eyes shut. Which only pushes the rest of them out in tiny waterfalls, but I’m desperately hoping it’ll block any more from building up. 

“It’s…” Phil exhales, and his breath is warm against our face. I’m afraid to open our eyes, to see how close he really is. “A lot of things have changed, and are going to change,” he pauses, like he’s waiting for that to sink in. Or maybe he’s thinking about what to say next. “And that’s okay, things _have_ to change,” another pause. 

**Am I missing his point? Or has he yet to make it?** I ask in our head, hoping for a distraction.

 _I’m...I don’t know? You’ve always been better at reading him than I have,_ he admits, which gives me an unexpected rush of pride - I hadn’t thought much about it, but I suppose I have. So I keep our eyes shut, and I wait. And I try to trust my gut.

“I guess what I mean is that things change, and maybe we don’t know what to think of the change? And that’s not bad, change isn’t bad. Sometimes things are just...different to what you expect,” he concludes - and it does sound like he’s stopped talking this time, not just a pause as he waits for us to understand whatever he’s getting at.

 **I’m sorry, I just...I have no clue. Maybe he’s worried we’re afraid of what will happen after we get out of here? That we’re afraid things might change?** Which, to be fair, we certainly are - how we’re going to keep up this charade of just being the other me, I have no clue. Although Phil hasn’t noticed anything yet.

 _That would make sense,_ the other me agrees.

“Whatever it is, whatever happens, w-” the other me catches himself at the last second, the word ‘ _we’_ almost falling off our tongue. “ _I_ , uhm, I trust you.” Phil smiles, bright as the sun peeking out of the clouds above his head.


	22. “All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again.”

**Dan POV?**

Unfortunately, that sun is quickly enveloped by dark, heavy clouds that have drifted down from the top of the volcano, and the air turns sticky with rain about to fall. After the heaviness of the moment I said how much I trust Phil - and really, _truly_ , I do - we’d cleared our throat, trying to lighten the mood, and the other me had mentioned that we probably ought to head back - we’re still close enough to the camp that anyone wandering might stumble upon us, and every moment we spend here is a risk for getting caught.

“Phil, you have to let me carry _something_ ,” I argue, guilt swirling in our stomach. The other me is just annoyed, though. “I’m not _letting_ you carry everything,” he takes control, stomping over to the blanket and pulling out the half-emptied backpack. We shove a few of the water bottles and clothes in, then sling it on our back.

Phil just watches, eyes bright with amusement, and collects the rest of the items in the blanket. Then he’s got that bundled up over his shoulder and we set off toward the cave. When silence settles around us, nerves start to prickle across our skin. 

_Is this awkward? Should we say something, or-_

**No, it’s not. Where did the calm, logical, rational you get off to?** There’s something in our head that sounds a bit like a laugh, and a smile touches our cheeks briefly before I push it back down. 

_Would you fucking quit it! We don’t need Phil being suspicious, we’re so damn close!_ I pretend, for about three seconds, that once we’ve escaped, things will be fine. That we won’t have to constantly hide this from Phil. Forever. 

**At least it’s you he likes**. The response is so soft, so resigned. I hadn’t even thought about it like that - we’re trying to hide _him_. Not me. I can be as much myself as I want to be. As long as I can keep remembering what I’m meant to be like - it’s getting blurry when I have trouble telling who’s reacting how, which of us is saying what. 

_I’m sorry,_ I say, because I don’t know that there’s anything else I can say. Somehow, even though we’re both equally in control, everything’s been fully flipped on its head: now he’s the one who has to sit in the background - though, I suppose it isn’t all the time. He gets plenty of time at the wheel. I promise myself that I’ll try to keep it even between us.

There’s a sound like a scoff, and it takes me a minute to realize it was _out loud_ and definitely the other me. 

_I will try, really! Why did you do that? Now he’s going to ask-_

“Something wrong?” Phil’s a bit out of breath beside us, and the other me swoops in before I have to think of anything to say.

“Just sorely lacking for exercise, apparently,” he jokes, and we laugh at the same time. Phil’s lip curls up, and I notice a thin sheen of sweat there. 

“Me too,” he chuckles, “but we’re close, right?” I nod, and we each turn back toward the path, intent on avoiding the undergrowth as we walk.

_You have to be careful! Otherwise he’ll-_

**He’ll what? He damn well can’t kill one of us off,** the other me argues, **not like the scientist can.** A wave of dread washes over us, and I grip the straps of the backpack tighter.

 _No, but what if he starts to hate us? What if he-_ I stop, because I’d been about to say ‘what if he hates me because you’re here’. Which, unfortunately, is exactly what I’m so damn terrified of. And the other me, of course, has already heard that, even without my saying it. He sighs, almost deflates in our head.

 **I know. I’ll be more careful.** There’s this sense of _longing_ that just pours from him, and I know exactly what it is because it’s mine too: that longing for Phil. For the way we feel with him. For the happiness, and the safety, and the caring. 

Then he’s entirely silent. I can’t feel him, not the same way I used to - like there had been a piece of our mind that he embodied - but I know he’s there. He can’t go anywhere else. If I had a heart that was solely my own, it might actually be breaking for the very same part of myself that had put me through such torture all our life. 

_I know what it feels like to be trapped,_ I say, hoping to empathize. Hoping to fix this horrible feeling in our stomach.

**At least you could leave.**

\--------------------------------

**Phil POV:**

Dan’s all over the place. It’s not a bad thing, I don’t think, but it’s clear that he and his other self are at odds with each other. Or at least, they haven’t figured out quite how to work together. Or alternate. 

_Or maybe they’re already alternating, and that’s what I’m seeing?_ I frown, still trying to wrap my head around all this. And my heart - Dan had said he trusted me, but he still hasn’t mentioned that both of them are still here. I don’t know what that means, exactly.

We finally reach the cave just as it’s getting dark - not from the sun sinking below the horizon, it’s not that late, but from the increasingly frightening layer of clouds overhead. We’re only just sliding down the cliff path when the first fat drops of rain hit me in the head, dripping down my scalp and making me shiver. 

Dan rushes into the cave ahead of me, and I duck inside after him, letting the makeshift bag of supplies fall from my shoulder. It definitely got heavier and heavier as we walked, like someone plopped a rock into it every tenth step. As Dan removes his backpack and rolls his shoulders, I’m suddenly reminded of my idea earlier this morning.

“Come here,” I wave him over as I walk to the mattress, positioning myself against the wall with my legs spread open. He watches, wide-eyed, as I pat the space in front of me. I’m about to assure him I have no bad intentions when he nods, seemingly to himself - or perhaps his other self - and walks over. _He does trust me._ I wonder briefly which of them had to convince the other.

But then Dan’s crawling across the mattress, settling himself cross-legged between my thighs, and I forget what it is I was thinking about. My fingers quickly find the hem of his shirt, a little damp from the left-over river water and the bit of rain we’d got caught in. Vaguely, I realize it’s now basically _pouring_ outside, a thunderous pattering that sounds a bit distant. Dan jolts when my fingers brush the skin at his sides.

“Can I? I want to give you a massage,” I add, because he seems nervous, and I want to be as clear and upfront as I can. _I should work on that, communicating better, making my intentions clear._ Dan relaxes against, me, shoulders drooping a bit - I think I can hear him exhale, but it’s lost in the sound of the rain. 

“Sure, do you-” he starts, then gives up as he tugs at the edges of his shirt. Between the two of us, we manage to get it off him rather elegantly, and I let it go so he can toss it across to the far side of the cave. Which is exactly the unnecessarily dramatic thing I’d expect him to do, and I smile as I press a kiss between his shoulder blades. 

Because I have very little self control, apparently, I let my hands run across the smooth skin of Dan’s back, tracing the outlines of his shoulders and down his spine, then back up again. It’s not exactly a massage, which I realize only when Dan shivers under my hands. So I move back up, focusing at the joint between his neck and shoulders, and start with what I hope is a medium amount of pressure. I don’t think I’ve given someone a massage _ever_ , so I have no clue what I’m doing.

But when Dan exhales some sound pretty close to a moan and leans back into my touch, I figure I must be doing a pretty decent job, and my lips curl up in a smirk. I’ve decided noisy Dan is my new favorite. 

Despite having zero experience, I can tell that the muscles in his back are tight and tense, even as I work them. 

“Just relax,” I advise, as if that’s something easy to do. I watch the way he sits up, his chest expanding as he takes a deep breath, then how he hunches back over slightly while he blows out a breath. After a quick test, I can tell he’s still not very relaxed, his shoulders still hard under my fingers.

“Okay, here,” I say, shifting a bit and gesturing to the mattress. “Try laying down.” He peeks over his shoulder at me, eyes still wide and uncertain, before looking down to the bed below us. I scoot to the corner, letting him adjust until he’s got enough space to lay flat on his stomach, then shift back so I can balance myself over his thighs. 

Immediately, he feels looser under me, and I use the advantage of leaning over him to press a little harder - the first time I find a knot, just below his shoulder blade, he winces and freezes under me, so I let up on the pressure and try to work at it lightly.

“No, it’s-” he pauses, exhaling heavily into the pillow, “it’s fine, it feels good,” I pause, fingers splayed out on his back, blinking down at him. He’s turned his head sideways to talk, and I can almost see the deep brown of his eye as he tries to watch me. “You can press hard, it feels good, I promise,” he glances down toward his back, and I realize he’s talking about the knot. _Right, of course. The knot._

I try my best to ignore the blush that I can feel creeping up my cheeks, instead focusing on massaging the knot a little harder. His eyes - well, the one I can see, anyway - squeeze shut, chest expanding under me as he inhales sharply, and I push past my instinct to stop and treat him more softly. _I don’t want to hurt you!_

I nearly say it aloud, the grimace on his face making me concerned I might be going too hard, when he absolutely falls apart under me, everything going pliant and soft. He moans again, louder this time, and I’m grateful his eyes are still shut - though just barely, like he could be asleep - because a very mischievous grin lights up my face.

It’s now my official goal to get as many of those sounds from Dan’s mouth as I can manage.


	23. “It is not in doing what you like, but in liking what you do that is the secret of happiness.”

**Other Dan POV?**

Suddenly, it seems a huge loss in our life that we’ve never had a massage before. 

I’d been suspicious of the way Phil looked, immediately concerned he was trying to push us too far - not that I really have any idea what sort of strange sex act would require us sitting between his legs like that. But I was not, and have never been, quick to trust. Because wouldn’t that just be the icing on the cake? Becoming some kind of sex slave just to get off this island?

I hadn’t even realized how dark my thoughts had turned until the other me had interrupted.

 _You know you’re being irrational._ Which was a very irritating thing to say, because usually I’m the rational one. Or, at least, usually he’s far more irrational than I am. _He wouldn’t, he said he wouldn’t, why would that have changed in the time it took to walk from the river?_

Mostly, I hate that he’s right. So I had nodded, allowed him to position us between Phil’s legs, and had been the one to nearly throw us across the room when his fingers found the edge of our shirt. 

**See?!** But then Phil was talking, and the other me didn’t have to say a word for me to feel just how damn _smug_ he was. **Oh, fuck off. My paranoia won’t be so damn funny when it saves our lives**. I have no clue when that would happen, but I’m sure it will. Probably. At some point.

And now Phil’s got us laid out beneath him, hovering over us and pressing down into muscles with knots we didn’t even know existed - he had been soft, gentle, until I’d told him not to be. I think the other me is a little nervous about how much we’re enjoying this: the pain of the tight muscle, of having Phil’s fingers pressed hard into it, then the aching looseness that follows. We might be finding it a bit more erotic than we thought we would - I don’t think the other me really expected that, but he’s enjoying it just as much as I am.

He was the first of us to moan, anyway. I had to fight to keep a smirk off our face.

 **Oh, so we’re _into_ pain then, are we?** I tease, because he’s already off-kilter and I’m curious what else I can get out of him. He’s always kept to himself, but now there are literally no barriers anymore. Curiosity is getting the better of me, even though I’m a bit-

“ _Phil_ ,” his name comes out sort of in a moan, which is completely my fault, and I can feel the heat creeping up our cheeks. He might have just chuckled above us, but it’s hard to tell between the intense sensation of having our muscles worked out and the conversation in our head and the background noise of heavy rain outside the cave.

“There, right there,” the other me manages to clarify the point I’d been trying to get at, and Phil redoubles his efforts on a spot on our lower back. We sound breathy and wrecked, and I almost can’t even be bothered to care. Apparently, we’re just destined to embarrass ourself in front of Phil over and over again.

 _Yeah, fuck off, you’re into it as well,_ the other me quips back, after he manages to regain enough composure to do so. I laugh in our head, but it comes out as a soft groan when Phil digs into a particularly bad knot low near our spine. We both end the conversation after that, a silent agreement to just enjoy this.

Phil works his way back up to our neck and shoulders, more gentle now, like he’s not searching for knots but just paying attention to everything, to every inch of our back. There’s a moment where his fingers still, and I wonder if he’s found another knot, our stomach twisting in excitement. 

When his lips find our skin instead, the excitement zings across our skin and out to our fingertips, and we suck in a breath. He trails kisses down our spine, soft and slow, fingers following along our sides. It’s every bit as intense as the massage, in exactly the opposite way: where pain and pressure had given way to a relaxed pleasure, now light touches are sending fire and electricity to every single nerve. 

We don’t dare open our eyes, afraid to break whatever he’s decided to do now. There’s a fleeting second of fear in the back of my head, that once again, I might be right and he might be trying something we aren’t ready for. But it disappears when he flops down on our back so his head can hover just a couple inches above ours.

I groan at the unexpected weight, air whooshing from our lungs. The other me pries our eyes open so we can see Phil.

“Feeling a little better?” He asks once we’re looking at him - and he’s _very_ close, enough that I can feel his breath on our cheek. I nod, face still half-buried in the pillow. He just grins. 

“Never had a massage before,” the other me mumbles, and I drop our gaze to where Phil’s hands - _damn, his fucking_ magic _hands_ , he interjects - are resting, fingers drawing small patterns on our upper arm. 

“Sounds like you enjoyed it?” The damn _innocent tone_ Phil takes, eyes going just a little wide and pressing his lips together, clearly trying not to smile.

 **Why the fuck did he have to bring that up?** I say, as if the other me’s embarrassment alone isn’t enough to turn our cheeks bright red. 

_What do we even- I mean, how do we even_ respond _to that?_ He asks, and I scoff inside our head. 

_**Do**_ **we even respond?** I can’t think of anything to say. ‘Yeah, we have a thing for pain, apparently’? Even the _idea_ of saying that aloud has me burying our face fully into the pillow. A hand combs through our hair, making us shiver. 

“It was cute,” Phil’s voice at our ear, his fingers sort of massaging our scalp, his weight pressing us into the mattress, it’s all _a lot_ , out of nowhere, and we bite our lip. Which seems more like an other-me thing to do, but I might’ve been the cause.

 _He thinks we’re cute?_ I give the equivalent of an eye-roll in our head.

 **He’s thought you were cute since day one, you twat. I told you, remember?** I wince at the implication - he thinks _the other me_ is cute, has always thought that. 

He’s always been terrified of me. The image of Phil at my feet, fear and maybe a bit of horror clear in his gaze, flashes in our head. The way he flinched away from me. I’m suddenly desperate to up and sprint out of here, back to the camp. Where things sucked but at least they fucking _made sense_. I knew what to expect.

 _But it’s not just me in here._ The voice is soft, softer than Phil’s had been. Phil, who’s still on top of us, oddly silent. I open our eye, turn enough that I can see him. He’s just staring.

 **Has he asked a question?** I’m suddenly worried to give us away, pushing aside my own self-doubt and self-hatred for the desperation of keeping our secret safe. Even if I can never have Phil look at us and _know_ I’m here, know that I’m a part of us now, I don’t want to lose him altogether.

A half-life beside Phil is better than a life without him at all.


	24. “Dreams do come true, if only we wish hard enough."

**Phil POV**

He’s inside his head again, arguing or talking or whatever it’s like up there. I’m suddenly so tempted to ask; is it different from before? Does it feel like something? Or sound like something, like two voices? Does the control go both ways, do they have to fight for it or request it? Can both of them be in control at once?

I must be silent for a long time - too long - because Dan shifts under me and flicks an eye open, peeking up at me through thick lashes. Before he can say whatever’s on his mind, I press a kiss to his cheek. _You are wonderful exactly the way you are, both parts of you. Every part of you._

I’m afraid to say it out loud, though. I want him to be comfortable with telling me first. 

“Are-”

Dan’s cut off by a loud sound - well, I assume it’s loud, because we can hear it despite the torrential downpour outside, but it’s not all that loud once it gets to where we’re laying on the mattress. As soon as it’s done - _is it a horn, maybe?_ \- his eyes go wide, and he’s shoving at me, pushing me off him and leaping up from the bed.

“Dan, what’s-” he whirls around, apparently in search of his shirt, as he grabs it with a shaky hand and struggles to get it on over his head while he rushes around the rest of the cave. A moment later, he’s tossing the backpack at me and shouldering the discarded blanket-bag. 

“The _fucking boat_ ,” he grits out, pursing his lips as he grabs my hand and drags me into the rain.

“The-” I wipe at my mouth, water already dripping in and making me lick my lips. “The boat?” I have to sort of shout to be heard, or I assume I do, because _I_ can barely hear anything. But then it clicks, and I’m scrambling up the cliffside path as fast as I can manage without falling - there’s a point when my foot slips, though, and I swear I’m about to tumble into the ravine below.

“The _fucking boat_!” Dan repeats, yelling at the forest in front of him as he tugs me onward - I don’t even have enough time to focus on where we’re going because it’s all disappearing in a greenish blur as we run. And we’re _running_ , at a pace I can barely manage, but Dan’s relentless.

And he probably has to be, if the boat is here. The same boat we weren’t expecting til tomorrow afternoon. 

In favor of being able to breathe, I choose not to speak as we rush through the undergrowth, focusing instead on the way Dan’s hand feels in mine - warm, wet from either the rain or sweat, or both - and the ground below me; I’m positive I’ll trip and fall, and with the way Dan’s racing, we definitely don’t have time for that.

My feet splash through mud, and I stumble a few times, but we’re soon out of the thick of the forest and into a large clearing beside a beach I don’t recognize. A dock extends on either side of a huge barge, and even at a distance with the rain obscuring everything, it’s clearly pulling out of the bay.

“Come on,” Dan’s back to tugging me along, slower this time but still just as anxious - his hand is shaking in mine.

“Are we, I mean, can-” as we jog over to the dock, I have to pause to take a few deep breaths, “sorry, can anyone see us?” He seems entirely unconcerned that we might be spotted, and I’m afraid it’s my Dan in control, used to the fact that nobody could see him most of the time. 

For a moment, his feet stumble, and his head whips around, eyes wide.

“No,” he shakes his head, voice raspy from the fast pace he’s set but otherwise dead certain, “at this point, everyone’s gone, the-” he takes a few gulps of air, coughing as we race alongside the departing ship. “The, it’s- it’s basically gone now,” he hasn’t slowed our pace, though, and I’m not sure what exactly that means.

I get to find out a few seconds later, when he races past something that looks like a ladder; then he slides to a stop beyond it, and I very nearly barrel into him.

“Okay, right here, wait for it to come close and then jump,” Dan’s eyes are wide as he turns to me, jaw clenched tight. His hand squeezes mine once, then he spins away, but I hold him tight and pull him back.

“Wait, wait, what-” I’m still breathing heavily, and I have to inhale deeply, “what about- oh god, I can’t make that!” I stare at the approaching ladder, and the gap. _Mind the gap!_ I want to toss my brain out the window for deciding that _now_ is the right time for that to pop into my head.

“Yes you can! Just,” he backs away, and I try not to freak out the second his hand leaves mine. I’m gasping in breaths now, far faster than I was while we were running, and I have to blink hard to fight back the rain dripping into my eyes from the outside and the tears threatening to spill out from the inside.

“When I say so,” Dan shouts, and I glance between the approaching ladder and where he’s gone to stand a bit farther down the dock, “you have to jump, okay?” I nod, even though every single muscle in my body wants me to shake my head and run for him. _I have to do this. I have to._

I look back at Dan, waiting for his signal, heart pounding in my chest so loud it’s pounding in my ears as well. Or maybe that’s the rain on the docks, I can’t be sure. Dan’s watching me, then glancing behind me, eyes squinted as he adjusts his bag over his shoulder. Everything feels like a tightrope, about to snap beneath our feet. 

“Okay, Phil, get ready,” Dan’s voice makes me turn, back toward the ladder - it’s almost right across from me, and I bend my knees a bit, desperately wishing I had _any_ athletic ability. “ _Jump!_ ” The shout startles me, louder than he’d been before, and I almost fall right off the dock.

But I don’t. I jump, and by some miracle, my hands wrap tight around the rungs of the metal ladder in front of me. A moment later - some primal instinct must take over, because I should _not_ have the physical fitness or skill to do this - my feet find their own rungs to balance on, and then I’m clinging to the hull of a giant barge.

I peek over my shoulder at the slowly approaching Dan, watching him scoot farther down the dock, almost to the end. He’s waving at me, and it takes my adrenaline-riddled brain almost thirty seconds to realize he’s trying to signal me. Really, it’s only once I get nearly to him that I realize he’s shouting at me to _start bloody climbing_.

And then he’s at the end of the dock, squinting at where I’ve just barely started moving. And I realize what he’s seeing - the ladder’s shifted farther away, the barge turning as it clears the dock. _He won’t make it._ Of all the things he could do at that exact moment that would send me into a spiral of terror, he _steps away_. He _exhales._ He just _smiles_ at me - that sad, ‘things could get better, maybe’ smile that speaks of hopes and dreams but not being sure that they’ll ever come true. My heart lurches in my chest. _No. I won’t lose you, not like this._

“ _Do you trust me?_ ” I shout over the noise of the rain, and Dan’s brows furrow. I’m about to shout again, glancing frantically between him and the edge of the dock, but there’s a sudden spark in his eyes and he nods - it’s wild, an uncharacteristically desperate movement. I take the deepest breath I’ve ever taken in my life, then force one of my hands to loosen its death grip on the rung of the ladder.

I extend that hand as far as it’ll go, pushing one leg off the boat so I can reach out a bit farther. I know it won’t be enough, not on its own - we’re both tall, but that gap is too far. 

“When I say so,” I shout as the ladder approaches where Dan’s stood now, at the very edge of the dock. My voice shakes, and I try to push some confidence into it. _I will not let you fall._ “When I say to, jump!”

Dan nods again, stepping back further. But this time, it’s a good stepping back - or, at least, it isn’t the giving-up kind. 

“ _Jump!_ ” I stare hard at him, then, because he’s frozen. He’s still, he _isn’t moving_ , and I’m suddenly wishing I had mind control powers. _Jump, please just jump!_ But a moment later, he’s running, and I watch with my heart in my throat as he launches himself from the end of the dock toward me. _Please please please,_ I chant over and over in my head, and the world moves in slow motion; he seems to float through the air.

Then it’s a rush of tangled limbs and tight grips and being smashed against the metal hull of the boat behind me, but Dan’s there and I’m doing my best to tug him into me as he scrambles for a foothold and his free hand clings to a rung beside my head - the bag he’d been carrying fell the second he jumped, but it’s fine, it’s alright. _We’ll be alright._

I say it aloud, whispering it over and over into his ear as he shivers in my arms - it’s not cold, not by any means, but we’re both soaked to the bone and terrified and hanging off the side of a giant metal barge and the whole thing kind of warrants us shaking a lot.

“Ph-phil,” Dan’s voice is scratchy and he’s very clearly about to cry. Or maybe he already _is_ crying, it’s hard to tell with the rain. “We...made it?” The lightness that fills his tone is suddenly worth every second of sprinting through the forest, every terrified heartbeat in my chest, every second of horror as I thought he wasn’t going to-

“We made it,” I agree, hugging him closer. But we’re still clinging to the ship, and my muscles are ready to give out. “Can you climb?” I ask, because I’m not even sure with how hard we’re both trembling. Dan pulls back for a second, then his grip on the rung above me tightens, and he nods.


	25. “It may have been quixotic, but it was magnificent.” (Epilogue)

**Phil POV**

I wake with a jolt, eyes flying wide and blinking into my pillow. I take a deep breath, slowly registering the blurry walls of the room around me. _My room._ Before my brain has even fully woken up, I’m rolling over, disappointed to find my bed empty. My arm thumps pathetically on the mattress.

For a very dark, terrifying moment, I wonder if I dreamed it all; it wouldn’t be the first time I had such an incredibly vivid dream. My heart sinks, and I grasp blindly at my bedside table for my glasses. _I mean, that was a pretty fantastical story_. When I stand, though - intent on heading toward the bathroom for a quick shower before I get my day started - the cacti on my desk catch my eye. 

My face breaks into a bright grin.

My fears subside completely when I step out into the hall and hear the TV already on - it’s odd for Dan to be up this early, but not completely out of the question. Usually it’s my Dan that has trouble sleeping in. 

“Did you water the cactuses this morning?” I ask, peeking into the lounge. Dan’s sat in his pjs on the sofa, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his chin propped up by his hands. 

It had been an adorable request, once we’d finally gotten home - he wanted a cactus, like mine, but one that was _his_. I’d been happy to oblige. Now we have Thor, my cactus, and Loki, his. Sometimes he prefers to call it Tom, as in ‘Hiddleston’. 

“Hm? I didn’t,” he mumbles, eyes still glued to the TV. “And it’s cacti,” he adds, and I can hear the eye-roll without being able to see it. I walk over to stand beside him, dropping a hand onto his head and combing through his sleep-mussed curls. _The news? That’s unusual. What’s so interesting, then?_

My eyebrows arch high up my forehead when I read the headline: ‘ _Dormant Volcano Explodes, Burying Island Research Facility, Rogue Scientist at Large_ ’. I don’t need a map to know exactly what I’m seeing.

“Is that-” I ask anyway, and Dan’s head nods under my hand. “Oh,” I add - it feels like a mixed bag of emotions: there had been people there, Dan’s friends and those workers, did they escape? How did it happen? How does Dan feel about it all?

I ask him as much.

\---------------------------------

**Dan POV?**

“Are you, uhm, okay?” We’ve been staring in a daze all morning, ever since we turned on the TV - with the intent of watching some anime - and found this breaking news report. 

_It’s the island..._ I’d said, as if the other me hadn’t recognized it. He had, I’d already known he had. We didn’t speak after that, just sat and watched. They’ve spent the last hour alternating between showing footage of the still-smoking remains and consulting well-known researchers about what could’ve been happening on the island. So far, the only connection they’ve drawn is that the doc was a genetic scientist who’d had several research grants rejected and had then ‘mysteriously disappeared’ ages ago. Public records uncovered that he’d purchased the island.

 **Are we okay?** The other me is just as quiet as I’d been earlier, and I don’t know if I even have an answer. If _we_ have an answer. I exhale slowly. 

_I hated most of them,_ I say, which confuses the other me for a moment. _But they didn’t deserve to die._ So far, they haven’t located any escapees, any ships or anything to say someone had survived. If I know the doc at all, they won’t find any bodies, they’ll have long been buried under the lava and debris from the explosion. Our heart twists at the thought. 

**I know**. I know he knows. We don’t really need to talk anymore, but sometimes we do anyway. In intense moments like this. Phil’s hand starts running through our hair again. He knows it sometimes takes us a while.

“Can we talk?” I ask aloud, and the other me jolts in surprise. He curls our fingers into fists.

**Are you sure? What if he-**

**__** _He’s Phil. It’ll be okay. I can’t…_

**Live a lie. I know.** The other me lets our hands relax, and I realize Phil’s sat down beside us. His hand moves across our back, rubbing in soothing circles. In spite of his attempts to calm us, our heart is racing fast in our chest. I can feel the words waiting on our tongue, heavy and desperate to jump into the air.

 _That could’ve been us,_ I say into our head instead, too terrified. The other me doesn’t speak, though, and we stay silent for a while longer. Our eyes shut, trying to find some confidence in the comforting feeling of Phil’s hand, of his presence beside us. 

**You said it yourself, he’s Phil.**

\-----------------------

**Other Dan POV?**

Before he can stop me, before I can let myself think it over too much, I sit up straight and lock eyes with Phil.

“We’re both here,” I say, which sounded a lot better in the split second before I said it but now just sounds loud and horrifying and - judging by the scrunch of Phil’s brow - maybe a little confusing.

“In this body,” the other me adds, dropping our gaze to the edge of the sofa. For a moment, I wonder if our words have actually cleared anything up, but then Phil’s hand stills on our back. 

_Maybe I was wrong..._ the other me is curling us in on ourself, a wide pit growing in our stomach and sucking everything in. Including me. I can feel the doubt creeping in - it’s barely been a couple weeks, do we really know Phil well enough to say that he wouldn’t hate us for lying about this? Hate us for me being here? Hate _me?_

 **I can-** I’d been about to promise, inside our head, that I could tell Phil I’d stay out of the way. I’d watch from a distance. I’d let him have the other me and _only_ the other me. Even if it killed me.

But Phil’s arms have wrapped around us, and he’s pulling us into his chest.

“Thank you for telling me,” he whispers against our ear, and I can feel tears leaking from our eyes. The other me is sniffling already, and I can’t keep it together. 

**He...doesn’t hate us?** The words sound surreal and plasticky in our head, like someone made them up. Like they aren’t even real words.

“I mean, I _knew_ , but thank you for being honest,” Phil says, a little louder, and we pull back, eyes wide. The other me even goes as far as to scramble to the other side of the couch, well out of Phil’s reach.

“Wait, you _knew_?” My tone is the definition of incredulity, pulled straight from the dictionary. **How had he known? Did we do something? Say something?** I’m racking both our memories for anything, suddenly overwhelmed.

“You _knew_ ,” the other me repeats more quietly, more amazed. “But we-”

“Yeah, the ‘we’ thing, that happened a few times,” Phil nods, twisting his lips. Then he lets them settle into a soft smile. We’re shocked, though - I know I am, and I think the other me is as well. To the point where we’re breathing a bit too fast, and Phil’s lips tug down in a frown.

“And that’s how you knew?” I ask, trying desperately to calm our nerves. I rub angrily at our eyes, which still haven’t stopped watering.

“Something was off, after you tried to free yourself,” Phil tilts his head, “after one of you did,” he amends. “But it wasn’t til-” now he’s paused, eyes drifting toward the ceiling like he’s searching for something. “Til the you I met first got mad at me for, uhm, hating on the other,” he frowns a little, eyes squinting for a moment. Then he nods.

“Right, the other me-” I cut myself off, not quite ready yet to discuss what _exactly_ the other me had been planning with that whole ‘freeing himself’ thing. “Yelled at you,” I conclude, focusing on the safer subject. “But how did you know, then?”

“You- uh, _he_?” He tries, and I shrug. We’re both here, it doesn’t matter much. “Well, you were too nice. In like, an angry kind of way?” Phil’s head has tilted again, lips twisted as he tries to decide if that got his point across.

We sputter out a laugh, and I’m flooded with memories of all the times we’d been told, on the island, that the other me had the ‘undesirable’ traits. 

“Kindness is undesirable then, is it?” The other me is still laughing aloud, in spite of the drying tear tracks on our cheeks, and Phil frowns again.

“Oh!” His eyes light up, “because of the separation thing,” he nods, but I go ahead and nod as well, confirming his connection. 

**This is going...in a very different direction than I expected** , I admit, still trying to comb through our memories for all the times we might’ve slipped up, or might’ve given something away.

“That was it, though? That was how you knew?” I ask, shaking my head when he just nods. 

_That was...right at the beginning. And he never left._

**He didn’t, and things got _better_ ,**I agree, and I can’t fight the grin that creeps up our face. **You were right.**

“And you didn’t- you don’t, uh, hate me?” Our voice goes very soft at the last two words, still waiting for the rejection but hoping beyond all hope that it won’t come. I’m actually holding our breath, waiting and forcing us to stare at the sofa cushion instead of watching Phil.

Which is why I don’t notice when he launches himself at me, tackling me into a hug against the armrest. It’s... _so_ much more than I expected.

“Of course I don’t hate you,” his lips are at our ear, and I swallow the lump in our throat as I try to digest what he’s just said. 

**Did you hear? He doesn’t-**

_Of course he doesn’t,_ a small smile pushes its way to our lips, and I know it’s the other me’s doing. But I can still feel how elated he is that Phil doesn’t hate us - he’d been worried as well, and worried Phil would be upset with him for keeping me a secret.

“You’re perfect exactly the way you are,” he draws back, enough that he can kneel beside our thighs and cup our face in his hands. It’s stupid and intimate and silly and sends a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. “ _Both of you_. And I wouldn’t change anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies! If you'd like, feel free to give it a cheeky [reblog on tumblr](https://knlalla.tumblr.com/post/175435955812/peter-phan-completed)


End file.
